


Pink World

by scorpiostyle99



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Angst, Competition, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, LGBT characters, Love Triangle, M/M, Romance, Smut, explicit - Freeform, mature - Freeform, rock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-28 08:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 86,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21133802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiostyle99/pseuds/scorpiostyle99
Summary: Four LGBT teenagers in a local rock band receive the opportunity to compete on one of the nation's biggest TV shows.Four members of One Direction reunite as the million dollar competition's judges, and lives are changed forever.Love. Lust. Jealousy. Deception. Rage. It's all just part of the game.Welcome to Rock Royale.





	1. Harry

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try not to make this too long, since you're probably wanting to get on to reading this story.
> 
> The most important thing I need to mention is that there are a lot of mature themes discussed in this story that are potentially triggering. For this reason, I will provide a trigger warning at the beginning of chapters where such themes are present. Some of the characters say or do some explicit, offensive, or cruel things in this work; that does not mean that I condone, support, or believe those actions and words.
> 
> Something else that I want to disclose is that this work is a bit of a crossover of different styles of stories present in the fandom. Some of that has to do with the fact that I started writing this in one mindset and finished it in another, but it's also from me wondering what would happen if I took certain fanfiction troupes from different parts of the fandom and combine them into one story. Think of it as a candy shop: there's hopefully something for everyone. However, if you're someone who only reads one type of fanfiction (whatever that may be) and is perfectly content to stick to that style of writing, then this story might not be for you.
> 
> This story takes place in a slight AU. I tried to keep things as realistic as possible, but things are a little skewed and off-centered. Reality but from the left, if you will (the general direction left, not the political left). Also, by the time this gets published, there'll be a couple minor details that seem slightly dated simply because those details were accurate the time I wrote them, which might have been several months ago, depending on the chapter. Just keep those things in mind as you read, and try not to be too harsh about me not being up-to-date on every single detail.
> 
> Finally, I'd like to dedicate this story to three people: my mom, for believing that I would finish this (even though she has no idea what exactly this is); styles_sublime (Twitter), for helping me edit this and turning it from a jumble of ideas into a polished piece of work; and Olivia Franklin, for hyping me up through the whole thing, even when I was a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: verbal abuse, explicit language, mentions of drug addiction, cheating, and physical abuse

June

"No one loves you, Harry. Can't you see that? Your family barely stands you, your friends hate you, your fans only tolerate your music because you have a pretty face, and every single one of your lovers hated your guts. Deep down, you know that you're a piece of garbage. I'm only sticking around so that I can gain exposure. I've been cheating on you for the past five months, and I don't regret a single moment of it. All the guys fuck better than you. Every single one of them. I want you to know that you're going to die alone, Harry, and no one will come to mourn for you at your funeral."

These words serve as my alarm clock this morning. Lindsey uttered them to me last night after screaming at me for over thirty minutes because I came home later than she wanted me to, regardless of the fact that I told her multiple times this week that I was in back-to-back meetings all day. She didn't want to listen to my side of the story. She never does. She thinks that she's always in the right and I'm always in the wrong. I want to love her. I really do. When we first met, she was really sweet, and we had intelligent conversations. Then, she became a model and got addicted to cocaine, and she now pleasures herself in hurting me.  
After the argument ended, she made me sleep on the couch, even though we were in my apartment. So, when I sit up and stretch, there's more kinks in my back than usual. I decide that the best remedy to get rid of the kinks is some yoga. Unfortunately, my phone rings right as I get into my first pose. The caller ID tells me it's my manager Jeff. It's probably important, so I answer it.

"Hello?" I mumble.

"Well, hey, Harry!" Jeff enthusiastically replies on the other end. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," I answer truthfully. "I was getting ready to do yoga when you called. I slept on the couch last night, so my muscles are exceptionally tight this morning."

"I see. Everything okay? Do I need to come and get you?" Jeff's a laid-back guy and a good manager who tries to get me the best out of unpleasant situations. He's gone to PR three times on my behalf over Lindsey, but they won't budge. According to them, Lindsey, with her blonde hair, blue eyes, tall statue, skinny body, and fashion sense, makes my rock star aesthetic pop, whatever that means.

"No, I'm fine. I could just use some good news, that's all," I tell Jeff.

"Well, we have the final in-person audition details for Rock Royale."

"That's great!" Rock Royale was first pitched by my management team, and it's turned into the platform for the official One Direction reunion. The show's being aired on MTV, and the winner receives a record deal with Columbia Records.

"I knew that would perk you right up," Jeff replies. "There's three rounds of auditions. The first is regional, and it takes place in four cities during July: New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, Texas, and Columbus, Ohio. That should cover the four main regions of the US: Central, Pacific, Southwestern, and the Midwest, respectfully. The second round takes place in New York and LA during August. The people who make it past the Dallas rounds go to LA, while those from the Columbus auditions head to New York. The third round takes place in LA during September, which will serve as the pilot episode."

"Sounds terrific. Where are you sending me to?"

"We're flying out to Ohio." Jeff's answer catches me off guard. I assumed that I would be in New York or LA, but Ohio? Other than Columbus, Cedar Point, and possibly the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum in Cleveland, is there anything particularly noteworthy in Ohio? Corn fields, perhaps?

"You okay, Harry?" Jeff asks, snapping me out of my head.

"Yeah. I'm just a bit shocked, that's all. Any particular reason why we're going to Ohio?"

"The short answer is that Dave wants to return a favor to a friend from high school," Jeff responds. Dave is Jeff's assistant. He's also pretty chill.

"I'm confused."

"I know you are. I was going to tell you the full story, anyway. Yesterday morning, Dave found a DVD case on his desk accompanied by a completed audition form and a note. The note was from an old friend of Dave's from when he was in high school, and it said that he thought that it would be worth our time if we watched the DVD. Let me tell you, Harry; it did turn out to be worth our time."

"What was on the DVD?" I kindly ask.

"It was a video of a band performing at a talent show or something. They were like your stereotypical high school rock band."

"Watch it," I lightly banter. "I was in one of those stereotypical high school rock bands."

"I wasn't saying that in a bad way," Jeff replies in the same lighthearted manner. "In fact, this band sounded incredible. Sure, they performed a cover, but it didn't sound that way."

"What song did they cover?"

"I believe it was 'Cherry Bomb' by The Runaways."

"Interesting song choice for a group of high school students, considering it's from the mid-70s," I reply. "I don't imagine a whole lot of people their age know that song. Did they perform it well?"

"Smashed it out of the park, in my opinion. Their quality of their sound goes beyond their years, and I think you'd want to meet them. We feel like they embody the essence of classic rock the same way you do. If all goes well, there could be a possible collaboration in the future."

"I'm assuming they're from the Midwest, then?" I ask.

"Yep. Specifically, Ohio."

"Are they able to make it to auditions?"

"Hopefully. Dave's trying to get a hold of one of the members as we speak."

"Terrific. Is there anything else I need to know about?"

"That about does it," Jeff responds. "I'm gonna let you go. See you in July. Take care, and don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."

"Bye, Jeff." Once the call ends, I look at the time. It's a little after eight. Skipping the yoga, I decide to hop into the shower to freshen up for the day ahead. After I've tiptoed around my bedroom to find some clothes to wear without waking Lindsey up, I return to the living room to check to see if I have any messages before I go into the kitchen to make myself breakfast. There's two notifications that makes my stomach drop.

Missed call from: Louis Tomlinson  
Message from: Louis Tomlinson

I haven't spoken to him for over three years, ever since the hiatus started. It's probably been for the best. My heart disagrees as it beats faster, and I momentarily get scared. Has something happened to him? Not wanting to keep the suspense going, I listen to the message.

"Hey, Harry," the recording goes after the phone does its little voicemail spiel. "It's Louis. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything's squared away for the show. Call me when you hear this message."  
I know it's only business, but I forgot how badly his voice messes with my head. Our relationship has been a bit weird for many years. When things first started getting serious between us, we were seeing each other exclusively, but once One Direction started taking off, we had to change the nature of our relationship to make things more open. Louis developed some serious feelings for one of my friends back home, and I began rubbing elbows with a lot of attractive people in the celebrity social circle. Even though we've kept an open relationship up until the hiatus, there's been a part of Louis that would have preferred to keep things more exclusive. That's one of the reasons we called it quits a few days after the hiatus started.

I call Louis back, despite my head telling me not to. I have to be polite. He did tell me to call when I heard the message, after all.

He picks up after the first ring.

"Hey, Harry," Louis greets. "How's it going?"

"I've had better days," I answer before I can stop myself. Louis has a way of making me tell the truth, even if I don't want to. That's one of the things I dislike about him.

"Everything alright? Do you need to talk about it?" Louis asks. My head is screaming at me to just talk business with him, but my mouth doesn't listen to my brain.

"It's Lindsey. We had another fight."

"Lindsey's your current girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah. She makes me feel lower than whale vomit."

"What did she say to you?"

"Basically that no one loves me, I'm a piece of garbage, and I'm going to die alone with no one to mourn my death." There's silence on the other end. The longer it lasts, the more I feel like crying.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Louis finally replies. "Lindsey sounds like a really nasty person."

"She used to be as sweet as can be, but then she started modelling and snorting cocaine, and now...well, I'm pretty sure you know how the story goes."

"I need you to listen to me, Harry: you aren't a piece of garbage. Lots of people love you and would mourn your death if you were to die tomorrow."

"It doesn't feel that way sometimes." My voice cracks as I try to hold back tears. 

"Have you talked to Jeff about it? Jeff's your manager, right?"

"He's talked to PR three times. They're not budging," I tell Louis. "I mean, I kinda get where they're coming from, because I went through three different relationships last year before I met Lindsey in September, so  
they're trying to make sure I don't come across as a womanizer to the general public again. They were really hesitant when Jeff came to them during my last relationship before Lindsey, and the only reason they ended up agreeing to me ending that relationship was because Jeff saw her give me a black eye."

"Oh, wow," he replies. "That sounds awful."

"It is, especially since all three relationships prior to Lindsey have been terrible in some way or another. One used me to try to get into acting; another one revealed to me that she was a lesbian right when I was reaching my breaking point from stress; and the same one that gave me a black eye also cheated on me. To be honest, they've made me miss when I was seeing people like Taylor and Kendall. They were at least kind to me, even when we had our differences."

"Lemme guess: is Carson pushing this issue?" Carson was the band's main PR contact back in the day; now, even though his company and/or his contacts from other PR firms still oversee us as individual artists, Carson's decided to stick with me because he feels that I'm the least problematic and the most successful out of the group.

"Yeah," I huff slightly. "I don't hold it against him, though; he's just trying to do his job. I just wish that the people I decide to date with didn't turn sour the minute our relationship gets serious. Sometimes I wonder if the universe is punishing me for pushing things with you." I didn't intend that last sentence to come out of my mouth. Based on the silence on the other end of the line, I can tell Louis's taken aback by it. 

"Harry, don't beat yourself up," he finally responds after a moment. "First of all, you don't deserve to be kicked around like this. You're too good of a person for that. Secondly, I enjoyed being with you. I wouldn't change it for the world. I still l---"

"I'm sure you didn't call to listen to my problems," I interrupt. I know it's rude. I know what he was going to say, and I'm not in a place to hear it. The last thing I need is for my feelings towards him to come out of hiding.

"Um, well, I originally called to ask you where you're gonna be for auditions. Liam's off in Texas, and I have no idea where Niall's going to be." My stomach drops again as I hear how badly I keep catching him off guard.

"I'm flying out to Ohio with Jeff," I tell Louis.

"Ohio?" Louis questions. "I thought you would have ended up in LA."

"Jeff wants me to meet a band that he hopes will audition. He's thinking that a possible collaboration could be in the works."

"That's great, Harry. I'm going to be in New York."

"You're what?" It's my turn to be taken aback.

"Yeah, I know. Shocking. We'll get to see each other again. How long has it been?"

"Three years." I hear shuffling from the bedroom area. For once, I'm grateful that Lindsey's decided to get up early. Dealing with her would be better than dealing with the butterflies in my stomach.

"Listen, Louis, I have to go. Lindsey's up, and I have a full day ahead of me."

"Okay, Harry. I'll let you go, but this conversation isn't over. We will talk in New York. You can't avoid this or me forever."

"I know," I reply, mainly to get him off my back.

"I lo---" I end the call before I can hear him say it. There's a part of me that wants to hear him say it. That part was what got me into this mess in the first place. Deep down, I know Louis's right. I can't keep running from him or the feelings that he causes me to have forever.

I just don't know what I'm going to do.


	2. Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: verbal abuse, bullying, the f-slur, explicit language, nearly relapsing, mentions of underage drinking, pot smoking, attempting suicide, implied depression.

“Welcome to Sesame Street. The letter of the day is F. F is for faggot, which is exactly what you are, Puck Wellington. You’re a faggot, and I wish your little suicide attempt was a success, because the world doesn’t need any more faggots like you.”

Fuck. Sofia found my number again. It has been four months since her last message. I thought that I heard the last from Sofia after she moved out of Ohio right after we graduated and I moved to an apartment close to where I’ll be going to college, but I guess I was wrong. No matter how many times I block her, she always seems to find some way to reach me and bully me. 

Sofia’s my ex-girlfriend. We met at a Halloween party during my sophomore year of high school. I had busted my butt off the year before to be in the honors program, and I felt like I was on top of the world. My ego was further stroked when she started hitting on me within five minutes of us meeting each other. She was breathtakingly beautiful with her long brown hair, light tan skin, and dark brown eyes. I felt that I was out of her league, so the fact that she seemed to be interested in me boosted my confidence up sky-high. 

And then I made her the lead singer of Pink World, the band I created the summer before junior year, and our relationship took a nosedive. She started hanging out with alcoholic stoners and skipping classes and practices to get high and drunk with them. The few times she did show up, she verbally abused me by calling me derogatory names, such as the f-slur. She bullied me to the point where I tried to commit suicide. Thankfully, I didn’t succeed, and I was able to get professional help and get back on track for graduation.

Today’s message almost knocks down all the progress I’ve made, though. I’m on the verge of grabbing something sharp and drawing a line on my skin. Therapy taught me that whenever I felt like this that I needed to call somebody so that they can come over and keep an eye on me. So, I go into my contacts, planning to call Tara. Before I can hit the call button, however, my phone starts ringing. It’s from an unknown number.

Part of me doesn’t want to answer it because I fear that it’s Sofia, but my gut tells me that the call’s important. So, I answer the phone.

“Hello?” I say, my voice cracking a little.

“Hi, am I speaking to Robert Wellington?” an official-sounding male voice responds. That’s weird. I haven’t heard anyone but my parents call me by my legal name in years.

“Yes, this is him. I normally go by Puck, though,” I answer.

“Okay, Puck. My name’s Dave Smith, and I’m one of the producers of Rock Royale.” 

“Is this a scam?” I ask before I can stop myself. I don’t remember sending in anything for the show, and I don’t think my bandmates did, either.

“No, it’s not,” Dave answers kindly. “Your old high school principal sent in the audition tape for you and your band Pink World. Even though the deadline for submissions was about a month ago, my boss and I decided to make an exception. Your principal and I were friends in high school, and I owed him a favor, anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal to pull some strings and allow you the opportunity to audition in person.” 

“Great!” I can feel my heart start to beat faster. Am I actually having this conversation? Rock Royale, while new, is the biggest competition of its type to happen in the United States. We wanted to send in a tape, but our schedules prevented us from meeting up and recording something to mail in before the deadline. We then decided that it was probably for the best that we didn’t compete. We may have won a school talent show, but the level of competition is nothing compared to what it would be on a national game show. There would be bands there that prepared for this for years, for fuck’s sake!

“So, I have a couple of questions I need to ask you about Pink World, if that’s okay with you,” Dave requests.

“Um, yeah. Shoot,” I reply.

“Okay. In the video that was sent to us, there was a female singer. Tara, was it?”

“Yeah. That’s her,” I answer.

“Does she always sing, or is there some alternating between her and another person?”

“Tara and I switch between vocals and guitar, depending on the song.”

“Besides vocal range, what factors determine which one of you sings?”

“Tara’s specialty is classic rock, particularly from the 80s, while I have a knack for covering more modern songs, but it’s not like we only sing those type of songs.”

“When you say more modern songs, what exactly do you mean?”

“Well, sometimes we cover songs by Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! At the Disco, that sort of thing.”

“Interesting. Do the other two members sing at all, or is it just you and Tara?”

“Thomas and Ralph don’t sing, no,” I tell Dave. Ralph is the bass guitar player, and Thomas is the drummer. “Ralph gets stage fright whenever he’s in front of a microphone, and Thomas is perfectly content to be on the drums.”

“Got it. I’m thinking that Pink World performs twice during the first round of auditions. Tara sings her classic 80s rock song, and you can sing something more modern. Does that sound good to you?”

“I don’t see that being a problem,” I answer.

“Super! The first round occurs during the third week of July. You’re from Ohio, correct?”

“Yep.”

“Awesome! Columbus shouldn’t be that much of a commute for you, then. We’ll cover the cost of the hotel, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Okay. I need to talk to my bandmates to make sure they’re okay with auditioning, but I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to make it out.”

“Super! Let me know if anything changes. Otherwise, I’ll see you in July. Take care, now.”

“Bye.” My heart is racing when the call ends. I can’t believe Pink World is getting the opportunity to audition for Rock Royale. Even if we don’t make it past the first round, auditioning for something that big is great experience, and it might even get us some exposure. Now, it’s just a matter of sitting down with my bandmates and discussing this thoroughly. So, I call Tara. She answers after the second ring.

“Hello?” Tara answers groggily.

“Did I disturb you?” I ask her. “I can call back another time.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she responds. “It must be important enough to not tell me through text. What’s up?”

“I’m having a mandatory band meeting at my apartment. I just got off the phone with someone really important, and I would like to discuss the details of that call with everyone in person.”

“O-Okay,” Tara replies, probably caught off guard. “I’ll bring pizza.”

“Dude,” Thomas nearly gasps. “Are you serious? Rock Royale seems like it’s the big leagues. Getting the chance to even audition for this show is a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity.” The four of us are in the living room. Thomas is stretched out on the couch, Tara and Ralph are on the floor, and I’m sitting on a wooden chair taken from the kitchen. A few minutes ago, I finished recounting the conversation I had with Dave on the phone. Tara, Thomas, and Ralph were stunned speechless. Ralph was so shocked that his slice of pizza slipped out of his hand and landed on his plate. Thomas was the first one to break the silence. 

“I know,” I reply. “Believe me, I was just as surprised when I heard that we were even considered talented enough to be given the chance to compete.”

“I think we should do it,” Ralph says quietly. “I know we said that maybe we weren’t ready for this level of competition and that we should focus on going to university, but there’s something out there that’s clearly telling us otherwise.” Ralph’s a nice-looking guy with his dirty blond hair, green eyes, and pale skin. He’s also incredibly intelligent, and he dabbles in astrology in his spare time. The only thing preventing him from having people fall all over their feet for him is his shyness.

“I agree with Ralph,” Thomas responds. Thomas looks like he came straight out of a 90s high school rom-com as the lazy but good-natured stoner who uses edgy Hawaiian shirts as the top layer of his outfit. His skin is constantly tan as a result of him being mixed; his short hair is currently dyed pink; and he has chocolate brown eyes. While he has smoked a joint a few times, he’s far from a lazy stoner. In fact, he was only a few spots away from being the class valedictorian at our school, and he wants to go into forensics.

“Tara?” I ask. Like Ralph, she lets her shyness affect how she interacts with people, which sucks because between her looks, her brains, and her personality, she’s very close to a 10 in my book.

“I just have one concern: what about Sofia?”

Back when I was in middle school, I allowed myself to get caught up in the stoner crowd. The summer before freshman year, I realized that I needed to step up my academic efforts if I didn’t want to wind up a lazy, no-good bum, so I cut my stoner friends out of my life. They were pissed, to say the very least. Right around the time I created Pink World, a few of these stoners got together and created their own band: The Stony Badgers. The Stony Badgers have egos the size of Jupiter, and Pink World became their number one rival band very quickly. The Stony Badgers did everything in their power to sabotage my band by attempting to tarnish my reputation with stories from my stoner days. After Sofia and I broke up and I kicked her out of Pink World, she crawled over to The Stony Badgers, wanting a spot in their band. Once they realized that Sofia hated my guts, they accepted her with open arms. When The Stony Badgers caught wind of Rock Royale towards the beginning of the second semester our senior year, they bragged to anyone that would listen that they were gonna audition and win the whole competition. So, there’s no doubt in any of our minds that they sent in a tape, thinking that they were going to impress somebody.

Luckily, Pink World has something that The Stony Badgers will never have: Tara.

“Well, I’m not gonna let that bitch scare us!” Thomas exclaims. “We’ve already beat her band once in a competition; we’ll easily do it again!”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Tom,” Tara replies, causing Thomas to roll his eyes. Thomas really objects to being called Tom for reasons he has yet to fully disclose to any of us. Ignoring Thomas, Tara adds,

“I’m worried about Puck. You know what happened the last time Sofia messed with his head. I don’t want something similar happening to him again, especially now that he’s in a much better place mentally.”

“Or rather, I was before this morning,” I mutter before I can stop myself. Tara’s head whips around to look at me, and Thomas starts bitching about Sofia.

“Thomas, stop,” Ralph warns. Ralph has the ability to make people shut up and listen, which is exactly what Thomas ends up doing. 

“Puck, what happened?” Tara asks me softly.

“I woke up to Sofia throwing the f-slur at me repeatedly and telling me that she wishes I was successful in my suicide attempt in a voicemail message this morning,” I answer. The message starts replaying in my mind in a loop, causing tears to come up in my eyes. Tara gets up from the floor, walks over to where I’m sitting, and wraps me in a hug. Thomas and Ralph quickly follow suit.

“I thought that she was gone for good this time,” I sob, even though I know I probably look and sound pathetic. “I just started feeling confident again, and she had to come and knock away all the progress I’ve made. It sucks so fucking much. I wish she would just leave me alone.”

“I know,” Tara whispers. “Remember that you don’t have to deal with her alone. We had your back the last time, and we’ll continue to be on your side. No matter what happens to you or who you end up being, we’ll still be your friends.”

Ralph and Thomas chime in their agreement, and I want so much to accept what they’re saying at face value and believe that they’ll stick by me for as long as they can.

However, there’s a small, evil voice in my head that whispers,

“They won’t love you once they find out what you like to do when you’re alone.”


	3. Tara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: explicit language, bullying, implied pot smoking, catty/petty fangirl drama

July

For the past week, we’ve stayed at a Holiday Inn near the Palace Theatre, the location for the Midwest regional auditions for Rock Royale. From Sunday afternoon to today, Thursday, bands from all over the Midwest have been practicing the songs they’ll be performing for their auditions. A music executive named Jeff thought that much time was necessary so that he could figure out the order that the bands would perform for Friday. For whatever reason, Pink World is both opening and closing auditions. Puck’s performing “Where Did the Party Go” by Fall Out Boy, and I’m taking it old school with Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love A Bad Name”. We spent our practices between the phone call and this week learning these songs and honing in our skills to make them and consequently the band stand out; so, we only had to practice on site a few times to make sure the technical stuff, such as the speakers, worked perfectly. There were a lot of bands who, like us, used the time provided to us as a dress rehearsal of sorts before the big performance. Meanwhile, other bands thought that this week was just like regular practice. Some of them hadn’t even decided what they were going to perform when they first showed up Sunday.

The Stony Badgers were one of the unprepared bands. Yet, as soon as practice would end each day, they would saunter over to different bands and brag about their skills. Today’s no different. Their target? Us, as we’re waiting in the theater lobby per Jeff’s instructions. I woke up with a migraine this morning that’s so bad that medicine’s only making the pain dull, so I’m not in the mood to get into an argument with Sofia over stupid shit that needs to stay in high school.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Puckie and his little band of social misfits,” Sofia hollers. Even if she hadn’t yelled across the lobby, the smell of weed mixed with patchouli’s enough to give The Stony Badgers’ presence away. 

“What the fuck do you want, Sofia?” Thomas snaps as The Stony Badgers come over to where we’re sitting. Sofia scowls at Thomas, and my head starts throbbing.

“I just want to know one tiny little thing: what are you losers doing here? I thought you were too scared to even send in a tape,” Sofia answers. Her bandmates flank behind her and sneer at us. The Stony Badgers is your standard high school clique: Sofia’s the leader, and her bandmates are the cronies that agree with everything she says and can’t think for themselves. The fact that we’re all now adults getting ready to go into college makes this behavior funny in a really pathetic way.

“How we got here doesn’t matter,” Puck replies sternly before Thomas, who tends to run his mouth, has the opportunity to respond. “What matters is that we’re here and have our shit together. Didn’t you guys just decide your song yesterday in the middle of practice?”

“At least our song’s good,” Sofia argues. The Stony Badgers are apparently performing a song from Pink Floyd’s early days. “Your song choice is a sellout, and the prude chose one of the most generic songs imaginable.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ralph tells Sofia quietly. “Besides, both Puck and Tara sound good while you sound like an out-of-tune cat screeching as it’s getting run over by a semi-truck.” Sofia glares at Ralph for a good thirty seconds before turning on her heel and storming out of the theater in a huff. Her bandmates quickly follow suit.

“Thank god!” Thomas exclaims once they’re out of earshot. “What a bunch of despicable assholes.”

“I know,” Puck responds. “I can’t believe I dated one of them.” Awkward silence fills the air for a couple moments before Ralph breaks it by asking,

“Any idea when Jeff’s coming back?”

“No clue,” I answer. “He just said that he was picking someone up from the airport and bringing them straight to the theater.”

“That was twenty minutes ago,” Thomas complains. “I hope he doesn’t take much longer. I’m getting bored.”

“Well, we could share something about ourselves that no one else knows,” Ralph suggests.

“That sounds like a great idea!” Thomas declares excitedly. “I’ll go first!” As Thomas talks, I can tell that Puck doesn’t think that this is a great idea because for a brief second, fear crosses his eyes as he runs his fingers through his brown wavy hair. It quickly vanishes as he assumingly resigns to the fact that this activity is happening whether he likes it or not. What’s Puck scared of us finding out?

“…and that’s how I came to realize that I hated Lucky Charms,” Thomas says, snapping me back to reality.

“Fascinating,” Ralph replies deadpan, suggesting to me that he also zoned out during Thomas’ story. “Tara, why don’t you tell us something? Surely, whatever you have is much more interesting than Thomas.” Thomas reaches over his seat to lightly hit Ralph in the shoulder, and I try to rack my brain for something entertaining. It’s difficult to concentrate when you have a migraine, though, so I can only come up with my guilty pleasure in music.

“I don’t know if this is interesting, but I like listening to One Direction,” I tell the group. Puck’s bluish-green eyes light up like Christmas lights as soon as the words ‘One Direction’ left my lips. I had no idea that he liked the band at all, let alone that much.

“Oh my god, really?” Puck exclaims excitedly. I quietly nod my head, and someone squeals in reply. At first, I thought it was Puck, but the confused expression on his face tells me otherwise. Looking in the same direction as Puck, I find a group of four girls standing behind us.

“Can we help you?” I ask them nicely.

“We couldn’t help but overhear you saying that you like One Direction,” a slender brunette quietly answers. Her voice sounds familiar, and I quickly realize that she’s one of the members of Ivory, a band from Indiana that’s infamous for putting the most generic rock twists on popular top 40 hits. I believe the one who just spoke’s named Kelly.

“One Direction is the whole reason why I’m here,” the only blonde in the group, Emily, brags. “They’re judges on the show, you know.” With her blonde hair, doll-like face, and barely-there clothes, Emily looks better suited for a cheerleader squad than a rock band, but that’s just my humble opinion.

“That’s nice,” Puck mumbles. I hope he’s alright. He’s looking a bit pale.

“So, when did you become a fan?” Emily asks me, ignoring Puck completely. “I’ve been a Directioner since the very beginning.”

“I officially became a fan the summer before my freshman year of high school,” I answer. “I enjoyed Story of My Life when it was first released, and it sort of progressed from there.” Emily seems like the type of fan to start drama over nothing, so I’m careful to be vague in my response.

“So, you preferred One Direction once they had a more mature sound?” Kelly asks. “At first glance, you don’t seem like the type of person to enjoy their early work.”

“Yeah,” I tell Kelly. “I like how they leaned towards a rock sound as they developed as a band, and I enjoy a lot of their solo work.”

“Have you been to any of their concerts?” Emily interrupts loudly. “I’ve been to at least one show of every One Direction and solo tour.” Why am I not surprised?

“And I saw them during their last tour,” Kelly adds. “I also saw Niall a couple times.” I like Kelly. She’s quiet and not contributing to my migraine like Emily is. 

“I’ve only been to one concert, solo or otherwise,” I answer. “I didn’t even expect to go because I thought I had to choose between him and another artist, but I ended up getting to see both, which was nice.” Right after I finish talking, I notice that Ralph has a weird look on his face. It’s a combination of recognition, surprise, and worry, almost like he’s seen someone sneak their way over to us. 

“Who was it?” Kelly and Emily ask excitedly.

“Would it happen to be me by any chance?” a very familiar deep, British-sounding male voice asks politely. Several things happen simultaneously after he asks that question: Puck tenses up in his seat like he’s seen a ghost; I jump out of my skin and cause my chair to move a couple inches backwards; Emily screams like she’s getting murdered in a horror movie; my migraine gets extremely painful to the point that my head feels like it’s about to split open; and my stomach clenches as a nauseous feeling washes over my body.

Fuck, I think to myself as I bend over and hide my face in my hands. This migraine is kicking my ass, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Is she okay?” Harry asks worriedly, most likely referring to me and my current sitting position. His voice sounds like it’s at the end of a long tunnel.

“She’s been fighting a migraine all day,” Puck explains, although I can barely hear him over the throbbing in my head. I then hear the faint sound of chairs moving around. The next thing I know, a hand starts rubbing up and down my back, as if to comfort me. 

“Oh my fucking god!” Emily screams angrily at the top of her lungs. “I can’t believe this shit!”

“Emily,” Kelly replies wearily. “Don’t start.” Unfortunately, Emily ignores her and continues her tirade, much to my disappointment. 

“I’ve been DMing him and tagging him in posts for years! I’ve seen shows from every single tour, including both parts of his world tour! I’ve been working my butt off to get noticed, and all this bitch has to do is fake a headache to get his attention! Fucking unbelievable!” My bandmates immediately jump to my defense, and the amount of noise in the room makes my migraine excruciating. The pain’s so agonizing that it makes me want to cry. The hand rubbing my back leaves abruptly. Seconds later, a loud, shrill whistle breaks through the arguing, causing everyone to shut up and for me to quietly cry,

“Ow.”

“Sorry, love,” Harry whispers softly to me. Then, he raises his voice slightly to tell Emily sternly,

“I think you need to go.” Emily starts protesting, and Harry adds in the same tone of voice,

“Now.” For once, there’s nice, peaceful silence as I assume Emily and the rest of Ivory leave the theater. Harry goes back to rubbing my back, and he murmurs,

“Just focus on my hand, okay? Try to block out the migraine.”

“Okay,” I whisper back. People start talking, but it’s only a low rumble as I attempt to follow Harry’s advice by focusing on his hand rubbing up and down my back. I thought that I would feel cold metal mixed in with the natural warmth of his hand, since he’s famous for wearing rings these days, but his hand feels normal on my back. The migraine slowly starts to calm down, and it eventually dies down to a faint throbbing. This is the best my head’s felt since Wednesday evening.

“You okay?” Harry asks quietly.

“Yeah,” I reply. “You can stop rubbing now. I’m going to sit up.”

“Okay.” Harry removes his hand from my back, and I remove my hands from my face and sit back up. The first thing I notice is Jeff sitting across from me.

“I am so sorry,” I start to apologize. “I didn’t mean to---”

“It’s fine,” Jeff kindly interrupts. “You don’t ever need to apologize to me or Harry for having a migraine.”

Harry or me, I silently correct as Harry nods his head in agreement.

“Well, the migraine’s just about gone,” I tell them.

“That’s good,” Harry replies softly. I finally get the opportunity to take a good look at him, and I must say that the opportunity isn’t a waste. Harry has a tan glow to his skin that makes his green eyes and his tattoos pop. His brown hair looks incredibly fluffy, and it’s begging for someone to run their fingers through it. Not like I’m going to be the one to do that, because running fingers through someone’s hair without permission is invading their personal space. He’s wearing a thin-looking off-white dress shirt with thin vertical stripes, tan slacks, and matching loafers, which looks really comfortable. What isn’t comfortable is my stomach feeling like a taut guitar string, despite the fact that my migraine has almost disappeared.

“How much of our conversation did you catch, Tara?” Jeff asks, steering the conversation back to business.

“Well, to be honest, I kind of zoned out once Harry stared rubbing my back,” I answer truthfully. Never in a million years would I have imagined those words coming out of my mouth in that order.

“Okay,” Jeff replies. He then proceeds to tell me that he brought Harry along to help him judge auditions tomorrow, but he also wanted Harry to meet Pink World personally because he thinks that it might be possible for Harry and Pink World to collaborate in the future.

“Are you serious?” I ask, flabbergasted. Harry nods his head.

“Jeff thinks that our styles complement each other quite well,” he answers. “Of course, I wouldn’t know. I have yet to see this tape that Jeff’s so enraptured about, so I have to wait until you perform tomorrow to form my opinion.”

“It’ll be worth it, Mr. Styles,” Ralph tells him. “We’ve worked really hard to get here.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Harry replies, a smirk forming on his face. The smirk causes my mental filter to slip, and I wind up saying snarkily,

“Well, I mean, that’s kind of your job, isn’t it?” Four pairs of eyes look at me, and I feel my stomach clench tighter.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Harry tells me with a genuine smile on his face. “Besides, you do have a point: I am supposed to judge tomorrow. If I can’t do so adequately, then I’m not doing my job.”

“Tara tends to say whatever’s on her mind at some inopportune moments, which has led her to some trouble,” Puck explains. “So, please understand why she’s apologizing now.”

“I honestly don’t mind,” Harry responds. “I personally love it when people banter with me. It’s quite entertaining.” After a moment of silence during which my clenched stomach makes me feel nauseous again, Ralph tells Jeff and Harry that he doesn’t want us holding them up much longer, and the six of us are just getting ready to leave when Harry asks,

“Hey, do you mind if I have a word with Tara? It shouldn’t take longer than a few minutes.” I silently plead with Jeff to say no, but he ignores me by telling Harry that he’ll be waiting in the car. I then turn to my bandmates. They aren’t much help, either, as they tell me they’ll wait outside for me.

It's at that moment that I realize that Harry’s the reason why my stomach feels so tight.


	4. Harry

Once Tara’s bandmates and Jeff are outside, Tara and I walk over to two chairs by the door and sit down. Tara’s wearing a simple outfit: a plain black t-shirt, blue skinny jeans, and black Converse. At the moment, she looks like she’s about to vomit, so I ask her if she’s okay.

“Yeah,” she replies a little too quickly. She then hesitates as she adds,

“I’m just…nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?” Tara brushes part of her long brown hair behind her ear as she answers,

“Auditions tomorrow. Performing against some of the more experienced bands is quite daunting. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself.” That sounds like something I might have said when I auditioned for the X Factor all those years ago. Even now, I still feel nervous performing at large, famous venues, like Madison Square Garden.

“Want some advice?” I ask her. My mum gave me this advice right before I went on stage for the first time, and I think Tara would benefit from it.

“Sure.”

“Right before you get on stage, take a nice, deep breath through your stomach. As you breathe in, gather up all the tension and stress in your body, and when you breathe out, let it all go. Then, when you’re finished, your mind should be clear, and you’ll hopefully be able to focus on performing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she tells me. For whatever reason, I suddenly become drawn to her eyes. They’re a really pretty shade of gray.

Snap out of it, Styles, I tell myself. Luckily, Tara helps me do so by asking,

“So, was there any other reason why you wanted to talk to me in private?” 

“Actually, there is,” I answer, a slight smirk forming on my face.

“Oh?” Her tone and posture have turned playful, mirroring me slightly. “And what might that reason be, Mr. Styles?”

“I still want to know if you were talking about me when you mentioned seeing one of us perform during our solo career.” For just a brief second, Tara cracks as nervousness flits across her eyes, but she quickly regains composure. That brief second tells me everything I need to know, though.

“Maybe,” she answers coyly. “What’s it to you?”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Meh.” The corner of her mouth twitches upward, as if she’s holding back a grin.

“Meh? Meh? I’d like to believe I’m a better performer than just ‘meh’, Tara.”

“Well, it’s pretty hard to tell when you’re in the nosebleed section.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders lightly.

“I also wasn’t really able to fully relax,” Tara whispers, more serious this time.

“How come?”

“It’s a bit complicated. Let’s just say that I worry a lot about what other people are going to think of me.”

“Tara, I’m sorry. I want my concerts to be a safe place for everyone to be themselves.”

“Harry, listen, it’s not your fault that I feel this way.”

“I still feel bad.”

“Don’t.” A slightly awkward silence comes between us, which signals me to end the conversation.

“Well, I wish you and your bandmates the best of luck tomorrow,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she replies. She quickly gets up to leave the building, and she once again looks like she’s about to throw up. What is making her so nervous, and why?

I sleep through my alarm the next morning, so I have to rush through my routine in order to meet Jeff in the hotel lobby on time. Luckily, I laid out today’s outfit in the bathroom last night before I crashed, so I’m able to get dressed right after I’m dried off from a quick shower and have everything brushed and smelling clean. My outfit consists of a black and white plaid Alexander McQueen suit, a plain black long-sleeved dress shirt, black dress socks, and black Oxford shoes. Seeing everything put together in the mirror stirs the narcissistic part of me awake because I know that I look handsome. I take a few seconds too long marveling at myself in the mirror before I remind myself that I’m already running behind schedule. So, I quickly fill up a water bottle and head downstairs to the lobby, where Jeff quietly hands me an apple with an amused look on his face as we walk out of the hotel. When we get to the car, Jeff momentarily opens the driver’s back door to grab a hefty stack of papers, which he then places in my lap once we’re buckled up and tells me to keep a good hold of them. During the car ride to Palace Theatre, I munch on my apple as Jeff informs me,

“The bands should already be waiting in the auditorium when we arrive. We’ll go through the backstage entrance, and I’ll have you wait in one of the wings as I give a quick description about the day. I’ll then introduce you, and at that point you’ll join me on stage and give a few words before we jump right into the auditions. The only people in the auditorium at that point will be you, me, and the band auditioning. Those not performing will either be waiting backstage if they’re the next band up or right outside the auditorium. Around the halfway point, we’ll break for lunch, which the company’s providing, and then we’ll go through the rest of the bands auditioning. Once the last band finishes their song, we’ll have everyone come back in the auditorium and have them talk amongst themselves while we head outside to compare notes and pick the bands that are advancing to the next round in New York. Some of the bands are performing multiple times because more than one member of the group sings, so we’ll have to determine which lead singer is the strongest in those bands so that if they advance to the next round they’ll have their best foot forward.”

“Sounds like we have a long day ahead of us,” I reply after swallowing a bite of my apple.

“It’ll be worth it,” Jeff assures me. “There’s some talented bands that are performing today.”

“And there are probably some untalented ones, too,” I quip, a smirk forming on my face.

“Now, now, Harry,” Jeff gently chides me with a smile. “That’s not the attitude we want to have today. We have to keep an open mind.”

“Say that again around lunch after we’ve sat through some bad performances back-to-back.” Jeff laughs out loud, and we have nice small talk for the rest of the trip to the theater. Jeff takes the stack of papers away from me once he’s parked the car and we’re out of it, and we briskly walk through backstage until we get to the stage wing. At that point, Jeff quietly tells me to stop by holding up a hand, and I wait and continue eating my apple as Jeff walks on stage.

“Good morning, everyone!” I hear Jeff greet the bands. “How are we doing?”

“I’d rather be asleep,” someone retorts, causing me to quietly chuckle to myself. Me too, buddy.

“Well, unfortunately that isn’t an option,” Jeff replies. He then launches into a similar speech to the one he gave to me in the car. Meanwhile, I finish my apple and throw it away in the nearest bin. I then allow my thoughts to wander until Jeff announces,

“Now, I have someone very special helping me judge today’s auditions. He was once in a band that sold out stadiums all around the world and has done tremendously well on his first world tour. His debut album has sold over a million copies. In addition, he’s acted in an Academy Award winning movie, donated over a million dollars to different charities around the world during his tour, and has modeled multiple times for one of the biggest fashion brands on the planet. Lastly, he’s one of the nicest people that you’ll ever meet, and I and countless others are happy to call him their friend. Please help me give a warm welcome to the one, the only, Mr. Harry Styles!” People scream and clap as I walk out on stage to join Jeff, and I nearly trip over a wire in the process. Somehow, I’m able to hear someone snort in amusement, and I briefly look over to find one of the bands desperately trying to hold back laughter. I could be petty when they’re up and be harsh on their performance because they think that seeing me almost fall is hilarious, but as Jeff told me in the car, I have to keep an open mind. Once the noise dies down, I tell the auditioning bands,

“I wish everyone the best of luck today. Auditioning can be a stressful process, and I don’t want anyone to feel too much pressure from it. If you just perform naturally and be yourselves, I think you’ll do just fine today.”

“Those are some inspiring words, Harry,” Jeff replies. “And with that, let’s get started!” Most of the bands leave the auditorium to wait outside while a couple of them go out one of the doors that will take them backstage. Once the room’s mostly vacated, Jeff and I hop down and sit in a couple seats a few rows back from the stage. Jeff divides the stack of papers in half and hands one of the smaller stacks to me while he takes the other. I briefly glance over the setlist, and something jumps out at me.

“Pink World’s both opening and closing auditions?” I quietly ask Jeff in astonishment.

“According to Dave, Tara and Puck switch between singing and playing the lead guitar,” Jeff answers.

“I get that. I just know that opening’s a big deal because that’s the first thing people are going to remember, and closing’s going to be the last thing they recall. Both are important, and to have a band to both must be daunting,” I tell Jeff.

“I think they’re perfectly capable to the task,” Jeff whispers. Feeling like this conversation is over, I focus on the stage as Pink World’s getting situated on stage. There’s a drum set and a microphone already set up, so it’s apparently the bands’ responsibility to hook their instruments up to the speakers. Once Pink World’s done getting ready, Puck covers the microphone with his hand and asks,

“Do you want us to formally introduce ourselves, or can we skip that part of the speech since we met yesterday?”

“Just tell us who’s playing what and a little history about the band,” Jeff answers.

“Okie dokie,” Puck replies, uncovering the microphone before continuing. “Well, at the moment I’m on vocals while Tara’s on the lead guitar. Ralph’s on the bass guitar, and Thomas is on the drums. I created Pink World the summer before junior year of high school with Ralph and Thomas. Tara’s the replacement member for the one we had originally.”

“Was this member also a girl?” I ask. Puck nods his head.

“The original member and I had a falling out that led to me having to kick her out of the band,” he briefly explains.

“I see,” I respond.

“Why the name Pink World?” Jeff inquires.

“Thomas suggested the name during one of our first practices, and it just sounded right, so we’ve stuck with it.”

“The name’s very reminiscent of bands from the 60s and 70s, and you guys do seem to have the type of free spirit present during those decades,” I reply. “So, do you cover 60s and 70s rock songs, then?”

“Not so much the 60s anymore since Tara joined the band, but definitely the 70s and 80s as well as some modern songs here and there. In fact, the song that I’ll be singing today is ‘Where Did the Party Go’ by Fall Out Boy.”

“Sounds like an interesting mix,” Jeff says. “Well, good luck, and you can start playing whenever you’re ready.” Puck quietly whispers under his breath,

“One, two, three, four.” At four, Ralph and Thomas start playing, and Jeff helps me find the paper that I can use to take notes of Pink World’s performance. The paper is divided into three sections: general questions about their skills rated on a one to five scale with one being the worst and five being the best, a space for any additional notes, and two checkboxes for ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on the bottom of the page.

Immediately, I can tell that they’ve put in a lot of practice. Even with just Ralph and Thomas, their sound is really polished. Puck’s lightly tapping his foot to count the number of beats before he has to come in, which is a move that even I have to do sometimes. Then, Puck comes in and Tara joins Ralph on the guitar, and the quality of Pink World’s sound jumps through the roof. If I was listening to them on a CD, I would have no idea that they’re only a couple years old. That’s how refined the band’s skills are. 

To make things even better, as soon as Pink World reaches the first chorus, the band comes alive with movement. Puck in particular starts strutting and prancing all over his part of the stage, and he continues moving around during the second verse. His persona on stage is confident and self-assured with a tad hint of flamboyance, which helps him have a strong presence on stage. If Puck were in a different band, I think he would have easily overpowered his other bandmates. Instead, his stage presence balances with the rest of Pink World. In short, he kinda reminds me of myself during my first world tour as a solo artist. I get so carried away with the energy of their performance that nothing that I’m writing down sticks longer in my head than a few seconds. Once the song’s over, it takes me a couple minutes to come back down to Earth and focus on judging them.

“Wow,” Jeff gasps. “That video did not you guys justice. I don’t even know if ‘unbelievable’ would be strong enough to describe how amazing your performance was. Your sound is developed well beyond your years, which is simply remarkable. I think the only thing that I wrote down is ‘wow’, because I got swept up in the music and allowed it to take over my thoughts. And that’s just a cover! I can only imagine the effect you would have on people if you wrote and performed your own music with the level of skill you guys have. You could sell out some of the biggest venues in the world.” I like Jeff, but I feel like he’s being just ever so slightly over-dramatic towards the end of his little statement. Don’t get me wrong; Pink World sounded really top-notch just now. But, even with that I don’t think they’re quite ready to perform at somewhere like Wembley Stadium, and depending on the direction the music scene is going if and when they do decide to tour, the general public may not be interested in their type of music, no matter how good it may be.

“Thank you,” Puck replies softly. “We’ve worked really hard.”

“And that work shows in your performance. Harry, got anything to add?” I look down at my paper. I have lots of stuff written down, but none of it’s connecting to my brain. So, I decide to improvise a bit.

“Why didn’t you guys submit a tape originally?” I ask. 

“Some of it was timing,” Puck answers. “Our schedules were packed between academics and other extracurricular activities, so we weren’t able to properly meet and record something to send.”

“Can I add something?” Tara asks, speaking up for the first time all day.

“Sure,” I answer.

“The main reason why we didn’t submit a tape originally was because we were scared,” she explains. “We knew that we would be up against pretty competitive and more experienced bands, and we didn’t think we were ready to perform at that level at this point in the band’s existence.”

“Is she telling the truth?” Puck nods his head, as do Ralph and Thomas.

“Well, you guys need to take that idea and throw it out the window. One, that kind of self-doubt will get in the way of your performance if it continues to persist; and two, you don’t sound inexperienced at all. Quite the opposite, actually. I was a bit hesitant when Jeff told me that you’re both opening and closing auditions, but now I see that he made the right call. You all should be very proud of yourselves, and I can’t wait to see what kind of performance you guys have up your sleeves for later this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” the four members reply quietly. 

As the rest of the bands audition throughout the day, I have a difficult time focusing on the people performing in front of me. My mind keeps replaying Pink World’s performance over and over in my head. Luckily for me, Jeff’s having the same issue, so I don’t get in trouble for mentally drifting in and out. Instead, the two of us find ourselves anticipating Pink World’s second performance as the end of auditions comes closer and closer, which helps us get through some of the boring and tiring acts. After what seems like forever, Pink World finally returns on stage. For a brief moment, the members huddle together on stage in what appears to be a secret meeting. Then, everyone takes their places. This time, Tara’s on the microphone.

“Last performance of the day!” Jeff exclaims to Pink World. “Are you guys excited?”

“We’re excited to get a good night’s sleep,” Tara replies, causing both Jeff and me to laugh.

“I’m right there with you,” Jeff tells her. “Although, I think this performance will wake us right up.”

“What are you going to sing?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love A Bad Name’,” Tara answers. “We’ve decided to have a little fun with it.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jeff nearly shouts. “Whenever you’re ready.” I notice that Tara’s following my advice and taking a deep breath through her stomach. She then counts to four, and the band starts playing. It becomes quickly evident to me that Pink World has something unique: two front people with equally talented voices that are also capable of being each other’s right hand. The closest band I know of with that dynamic is KISS, and even then, Gene Simmons told people that he was the lead singer when it was Paul Stanley most of the time.

The quality of Pink World’s performance doesn’t suffer at all by Tara being the lead singer. In fact, I feel like it’s a smidge better, but I’m not entirely impartial in my assessment. Tara also reminds me of myself when she performs, but instead of acting flamboyant like Puck, she’s gone for more of a flirty performance. Maybe it’s the song choice, but the way she’s singing the lyrics leads me to believe that she’s connecting emotionally to the song, almost like she’s singing about someone.

Then, after Puck’s guitar solo, Tara confirms that she is, in fact, singing about someone: me. As Thomas accompanies her, she meets my gaze with an intent stare and sings,

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. You give love a bad name. I play my part, and you play your game. You give love a bad name.” As Tara’s staring at me, my heart starts beating faster. Part of me is screaming to look at something else, but I can’t stop looking at her. I’m completely in awe by those few seconds of her performance. Even after she breaks eye contact when Ralph and Puck come back in on their guitars, I’m still in a daze. In fact, the trance I’m under lasts from the end of their performance to when I return to my hotel room that evening after having an early dinner with Jeff. There’s only one person I can talk to about this, because he’s always been able to help me come back to reality whenever I’m obsessing about something. So, I change into some pajamas, grab my phone as I sit on my bed, pull up his number, and call him. He picks up after the first ring.

“Hello?” he asks.

“Louis, I need to talk to you. Something happened during auditions today.”


	5. Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: implied and mentions of masturbation, explicit language, implied sex

August

“New York, New York, New York, New York,” I loudly sing as Tara and I enter our hotel room.

“Puck, I love you, but if you sing C.L.A.T. one more time today…” Tara playfully threatens. During the flight from Ohio to New York, the four of us discovered that we all share a love for RuPaul’s Drag Race, so we spent our time watching clips from the show and various drag performances as well as listening to songs by drag artists, C.L.A.T. being one of them.

“Alright, alright,” I tell her. “I mean, we’re here anyway.” Pink World’s made it to the second round of auditions for Rock Royale. In fact, we’re among the top performances from the first round, so we’re in a good place at the moment. Unfortunately, The Stony Badgers also made it to the second round, but only because there were lots of bands that performed worse than they did. I think Ivory is also among the Midwestern bands auditioning in the second round, which Tara isn’t too keen on because of what happened between her and Emily, but I heard they did okay.

We’re staying at another Hampton Inn near St. James Theatre, the location of the second round of tryouts. Our travel expenses are being paid for once again, but we agreed to still try to stay on the cheap side. We’ve splurged a bit on the number of rooms we’re staying in, however. Rather than having all four of us stay in one room and fighting for space, Tara and I have one room to ourselves while Thomas and Ralph stay in another. 

We originally wanted to go out to eat later this evening, but all of us found that we were exhausted as soon as we got to our hotel. So, we decide to relax in our rooms, order room service, and call it a night. I don’t know what Ralph and Thomas end up doing, but Tara and I turn on the TV as soon as we’ve unpacked and order a pepperoni pizza.

“I think I’m going to wind up crashing as soon as I’m done eating,” Tara tells me. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah,” I reply. “I’m probably going to do the same thing.”

“Can you believe that we’re actually in New York?” she asks me. 

“I can’t believe that we’re one step closer to making it on Rock Royale,” I answer. “Based on what Jeff and Harry said at auditions, we might have a decent shot of getting on the show.”

“I’m trying to not get too carried away. We’re competing against a greater number of bands, so there’s a chance that we might miss the cut.”

“Try to stay positive, Tara. We were one of the top bands of the Midwestern auditions, if not the top band. If we perform here like we did there, I think we’ll definitely make it to the next round.”

“Okay.” Tara still doesn’t sound 100 percent convinced, so rather than continue talking about the auditions, we focus on the show playing on the television. Soon, our pizza arrives, and we’re laughing our butts off at the television program as we’re eating. Tara makes her prediction come true by zonking out right after she gets comfortable in her bed, even though it’s only seven at night. I, however, am not so lucky, as I still find myself awake three hours later. Truth is, I’m nervous about auditions. I’m trying to think on the bright side of things, but I have the same fear as Tara about not being at the same level of competition as some of the bands from the first New York auditions. We’re just a cover band from a small suburb in Ohio. Was it wise for us to put university on hold for this show, even though we have no idea if we’re even going to advance past this round? Do we even deserve to be here? 

Instead of letting these thoughts eat away at my brain and make me miserable, I grab my room key and throw on a pair of shoes with the intent of walking around the hotel. Walking helps clear my head, and I’m almost always able to go to sleep right after. Unfortunately, my plans go south very quickly. As soon as I open the door and step outside, I end up bumping into someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I apologize. “I had no idea you were there.” The guy in front of me chuckles lightly, and he readjusts the fringe on his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies with a slightly airy British voice. “There’s been worse things that have happened to me than someone accidentally bumping into me.” His blue eyes give me a onceover, and my stomach drops. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m wearing sweats, he would have a clear view of the boner that I’m quickly getting.

It’s bad enough that I butted against someone, but for it to be him out of all people? This wasn’t how I pictured meeting Louis Tomlinson at all.

June 2013, 3:57 pm

My parents are gone on errands and have left me at home to my own devices. I’m putzing around on YouTube on my laptop when I glance over at the list of videos on the right side of the screen and see one entitled “One direction this is us interview inside access (RusSub)”. Normally, I’m not interested with anything related to One Direction, but something about the thumbnail intrigues me enough to click on it. I then spend the next nine minutes watching the boy band answer questions to promote their film “This Is Us”. For whatever reason, I can’t keep my eyes off one of the members seated in the back. He’s seated between two other guys, and he’s wearing a white graphic tee of some sort. I find myself hanging on to every word he says while ignoring everyone else. When the video’s finished, I notice that my jeans feel tighter than usual. Concerned and confused, I take them off, only to discover a bulge poking through my underwear.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, snapping me out of my head. “You look like you’re about to get sick.”

“I’m fine,” I quickly reply, my voice cracking. Louis narrows his eyes at me, not buying my lie.

“Come on,” Louis tells me, slightly irritated but still nice. “You can tell me. I won’t bite.”

“I’m nervous,” I answer before I can stop myself. Louis’s expression softens.

“You’re one of the people auditioning for Rock Royale, aren’t you?” I nod my head, trying to hide the fact that I’m turned on by the way he pronounced ‘Rock Royale’.

“I see,” he murmurs. “Here, why don’t we get some fresh air? I was going out for a smoke anyway. No harm in a little company, eh?”

“No,” I whisper faintly, my heart beating faster. Louis comes over to my right side and wraps an arm around me as we walk towards the elevator, which causes my stomach to clench. He’s slightly shorter than me, but his general build seems slim the way mine is.

June 2013, 4:10 pm

After checking out the living room window to ensure my parents weren’t pulling into the driveway, I return briefly into my bedroom to grab my laptop before rushing into the bathroom and closing the door. I set the laptop down on the closed toilet seat before I start taking off my clothes. During sex education week in my health class a few months ago, my teacher told us about how erections most commonly occur whenever someone’s aroused, but they can occur for any number of other reasons as well. Someone in the front row asked how to deal with an erection, which got some snickers from the more experienced kids, but the teacher took the time to answer the question. I’m grateful for that kid in this moment; otherwise, I would have no idea what to do. Once I’m down to my underwear, I click on the next video, which is entitled “One Direction on Life as the New Teen Idols”. This interview must have happened on the same day as the last one, because everyone’s wearing the same clothes. I turn the sound up so I can hear the video, then I step into the bathtub and remove the last article of clothing off me.

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asks me.

“Sorry?” I reply, startled. Louis chuckles again, and I notice that we’re standing right outside the hotel.

“You looked like you were deep in thought the entire time we were walking to go outside,” Louis clarifies as he takes a puff out of his cigarette. “I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Oh, there’s a lot Louis can do to help me, but none of it’s appropriate, especially since I just met him.

“I just get lost in my thoughts sometimes,” I tell him quietly. Louis nods his head in acknowledgement.

“I don’t think you’ve told me your name. I’m Louis.” I know. However, it would be pretty creepy of me to say that, so I just respond,

“I’m Puck.” Instantly, Louis’s eyes widen, and they somehow get bluer.

“Aren’t you part of that one band from Ohio?” he asks.

“There are many bands from Ohio.” As soon as that sentence leaves my mouth, I regret saying it. Louis Tomlinson has a reputation for talking smack, and I don’t know if I can withstand him roasting me.

“Don’t get cute,” he warns with a gleam in his eye. “The name’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to think of it. Doesn’t it start with a P or something?”

“Pink World,” I mumble.

“That’s right!” Louis exclaims. “Harry told me all about you guys! He was quite impressed with your audition. Said that it was the best one out of the whole lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Makes me intrigued to see you perform Friday. Although he said something about someone named Tara…” he trails off before quickly shaking his head.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he mutters to himself. 

“What did Harry say about Tara?” I ask. Louis looks at me warily.

“Let’s just say that based on what Harry told me, she has a way of capturing and holding on to someone’s complete attention.” He sounds a bit scornful as he says this, so I drop the subject before I piss him off. I’m not sure what that’s about. He continues smoking his cigarette, and we make small talk until he’s finished. I will admit, being outside has helped soothe me a bit, but it’s done nothing for my erection.

June 2013, 4:52 pm

I just spent the last half hour jerking off to Louis Tomlinson. I know that it was him because I looked him up on Google. I’m currently lying in bed, contemplating what I should do. I can’t go back in time and prevent myself from watching that first video.

My health teacher made it seem like getting hard due to sexual arousal towards another guy wasn’t normal and that people who did were part of the lunatic fringe in society. At the time, something told me that the teacher was full of it, but I didn’t know how or why I knew that, and I certainly didn’t have the guts to stand up to the teacher because I didn’t want to risk getting in trouble. Now, I know.

The thought of Louis Tomlinson turns me on. The combination of his eyes and his voice makes me especially horny, but everything about him, at least physically, is attractive to me. I want his blue eyes to look into mine as he runs his hands all over my body. I want him to kiss me and cuddle me and fuck me until I can’t see straight. 

I want him.

But there is no way in hell he would ever want me.

“I think that’s your room,” Louis says, startling me once again. We’re back inside the hotel, and it only takes me a few seconds to look where Louis’s gesturing to see that he is right.

“Sorry,” I mumble out of embarrassment. Louis chuckles once again, which puts me on the edge of coming.

“Are you sure I can’t help you alleviate whatever’s bothering you?” Louis asks. I quickly shake my head no. Better to lie than get disqualified. Louis’s a judge, and I’m a contestant. I can’t just ask him to fuck me. I’m sure there are rules against that kind of behavior.

“Okay. If you change your mind, I’m in the room next to yours. I wish you and the rest of your band good luck on auditions Friday,” Louis tells me. “Not that I think you’ll need it. If Harry’s telling the truth, you guys are going to do just fine.”

“Thank you,” I quietly reply. Louis smiles at me and wishes me good night. Once I see him close his hotel room door behind him, I insert my room key in the door handle, open the door, and rush into the bathroom. I strip down to nothing and step in the shower. I try to be quiet as I relieve myself. I don’t want to wake up Tara, and I certainly don’t want Louis hearing me on the other side of the rather thin walls. However, a couple of soft moans manage to escape from my mouth. Once I’m finished, I make sure to clean myself up before putting my pajamas back on and slipping under the covers to get some sleep.

Monday through Thursday fly by rapidly. For the second round of auditions, Pink World’s performing “Call Me” by Blondie with Tara at the mike. Even though we practiced a lot back home, we make sure to use all the time offered to us this week to really perfect our performance. Jeff’s the main guy in charge like last time, but on Wednesday he’s joined by some guy named Carson. Carson seems very much like a no-nonsense businessman. Later that Wednesday evening, while Tara’s out of the room hanging out with Ralph and Thomas, I distinctly hear Louis orgasming, which instantly makes me lose my shit mentally. Speaking of people getting freaky, the next morning, I notice that Ralph has a hickey on his neck as we’re eating breakfast in the hotel lobby. When I ask Ralph what had happened the night before, he starts shaking while Thomas smugly drinks his tea. I meant to have a conversation with them after practice about it, but we’re completely wiped at the end of the day, so I never get around to it.

I wake up Friday morning feeling light-headed. At first, I contribute it to hunger, but I’m still feeling faint when we arrive in the theatre’s auditorium. There’s a table set up with bottles of water, so I make sure to grab a couple on our way to some seats near the stage.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asks once we’re sitting down. “You look pale.”

“I woke up a bit light-headed,” I answer. “Food hasn’t made the feeling go away.”

“Well, you have a couple bottles of water, so why don’t you drink through those before we perform?” Tara suggests. “Dehydration can cause lightheadedness.”

“That’s why I grabbed them,” I tell her. After several minutes, Jeff and Carson show up and do their little schtick, during which they announce Harry and Louis so that they can say a few words each. Then, just like last time, all the bands not performing first or second are forced to wait outside while the first two bands head backstage. Pink World’s performing close to the middle this round, so I make sure to grab a couple more bottles of water as the four of us exit the auditorium. While the water does help somewhat, I still feel a bit woozy by the time it’s our turn to head backstage. The band before us wraps up their performance right when we reach the stage wing, and one of the members wishes us luck as the band leaves the stage. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite band!” Jeff exclaims as we get ourselves set up on stage. “Why don’t you formally introduce yourselves to Louis and Carson?” Carson scowls, making my insides turn to jelly. Luckily, I’m not the one who has to talk.

“Hi,” Tara answers. “My name’s Tara, and I alternate with Puck between vocals and the lead guitar. Ralph’s on the bass guitar, and Thomas plays the drums. The name of our band’s Pink World.” It might be my imagination, but I swear that Louis winks at me once Tara’s done talking. He and Carson are sitting at the ends. Jeff’s sitting next to Louis, and Harry’s next to Carson.

“What an interesting name,” Carson says sarcastically.

“Give them a chance, Carson,” Jeff retorts. “They sound incredible.”

“We’ll see,” Carson replies, rolling his eyes. I think I’m starting to dislike Carson.

“Ignore him,” Louis pipes up. “Carson’s usually full of it. What song are you going to perform for us today?”

“‘Call Me’ by Blondie,” Tara responds.

“That’s an iconic song,” Harry tells us. “I wish you guys the best of luck. Whenever you’re ready, you can begin.” Tara counts us in, and Thomas starts doing his thing on the drums. Ralph and I come in on time, and I make sure to really concentrate on my performance. I’m not about to let my lightheadedness allow me to do poorly and detract from the quality of our band’s sound. When Tara starts singing, she sounds beautiful as she hits all the notes perfectly and adding her own flavor to it. She gets a bit flirty when she sings,

“Cover me with kisses, baby. Cover me with love. Roll me in designer sheets; I’ll never get enough.” Thankfully, she doesn’t have a staring contest with Harry like she did during her last performance. I have a feeling Carson wouldn’t approve. Overall, we’re all on top of our game throughout the entire song. When we finish our performance, everyone, including Carson, stands and claps in applause.

“Well done,” Carson tells us when everyone’s done clapping. “I had you pegged as a wannabe hippie garage band with mediocre skills at best, but you guys blew me away. How many years have you guys been together?”

“Well, Puck created Pink World the summer before our junior year of high school, and I replaced one of the members during February of that school year,” Tara answers. Adrenaline starts to leave my system, and I find my energy levels depleting way too quickly.

“I honestly did not expect that answer,” Carson responds. “You sound like you’ve been together for at least five years, if not more. The quality of your sound surpasses your years, both as a band and as individuals. You should be very proud of yourselves for being able to produce such a polished sound in that short amount of time.” That’s the second time someone’s mentioned us having a mature sound. Maybe there is some truth in that statement, but I’ve just never really noticed that until now. 

“Thank you,” Tara tells Carson. Meanwhile, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and remain upright.

“I told you they were incredible,” Jeff gently chides Carson. Jeff then goes on to tell the band,

“Today’s performance only further cements my high opinion of you. You hit this performance out of the ball park, and I really don’t have anything to say that I haven’t said before. Harry, Louis, got anything to add?” Louis looks over at me and immediately gets a concerned expression on his face.  
“I think Puck’s about to faint,” he states. As soon as the word ‘faint’ leaves Louis’s mouth, any energy allowing me to stand on my two feet disappears. My legs suddenly buckle under my weight, and I start falling. Someone catches me before my head hits the stage, and I pass out to the sound of voices and the feeling of being dragged off stage.


	6. Tara

“Come on, Puck,” I whisper with tears in my eyes as I gently shake his shoulder. “Please wake up.” Puck’s been passed out for a couple hours, and I’m extremely worried.

“Tara, he clearly needs the rest,” Ralph reassures me for the umpteenth time. “I’m sure he’ll wake up when he’s ready to.” Right after Puck fainted, one of the crew members escorted us out of the theatre and drove us back to the hotel. Puck opened his eyes just long enough for him to unlock the room door with his key card, and then he plopped down on his bed and went right back to sleep. Ralph, Thomas, and I have been hanging out in the room since.

“I know,” I sigh. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He’ll be fine once he’s gotten some rest.”

“But he’s been passed out for two hours! Shouldn’t that be cause for concern?” A few tears slip out and roll down my face, which is a bit strange. Don’t get me wrong, I care for Puck very much. He’s one of my closest and dearest friends, and I don’t want to see him hurt. Yet, something in the back of my mind tells me that being seconds away from sobbing over Puck merely passing out isn’t normal behavior for someone who’s simply a friend.

“If he wasn’t looking better as he was sleeping, yes,” Ralph answers. “Look at him, Tara. He has some color back in his face. Trust me; he’ll be fine when he wakes up.”

“I hope so,” I reply, barely able to keep myself from crying. What is going on with me? It’s a bit early for me to be experiencing PMS, which is normally when I’m this emotional. So, what’s the issue?

“You’re almost acting like that one chick did in ‘Harry Potter’ when Ron was in the hospital wing,” Thomas remarks offhandedly. “You know, the one who was his girlfriend for a hot minute and was completely smitten over him?”

“Lavender Brown,” Ralph quietly replies. “And Thomas does have a point, Tara; you are acting a bit like her. Is there something you need to tell us?”

“I…I…” I start stammering. I need to pull it together. Jeff’s going to have someone swing through our room once everyone’s back from auditions to tell us whether we’ve advanced or not, and I cannot be a hot mess when that person arrives. I just can’t.

“Stop bugging her,” Puck mumbles sleepily, sitting up on the bed and rubbing his eyes. Immediately, I wrap Puck up in a tight hug, causing him to chuckle after getting over the initial but brief shock.

“Tara, I didn’t die,” he whispers. “Although I might if you don’t let me breathe."

“Sorry,” I apologize as I quickly let go. “I was worried sick about you.”

“She really was,” Ralph responds. “She was close to hysterics because she wasn’t sure why you fainted, and she didn’t know if you would be okay.” Puck raises an eyebrow.

“Hysterics?” Puck asks, concern seeping into his voice. “Over me?” He has a weird look on his face as he says this, which makes me feel uneasy. Luckily, before things get too awkward, there’s a loud, rapid knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Puck declares as he starts getting up off the bed.

“No, have Lavender Brown get it,” Thomas jokingly replies. I smack him on the shoulder, and Puck ignores him, for he walks to the door and opens it. Standing on the other side is Harry and Louis.

“Well, I was going to ask if you were feeling better, but you’ve already answered that just by opening the door,” Louis states as he enters the room, Harry not too far behind. As the guys engage in small talk, my mind starts thinking about what Ralph and Thomas said to me while Puck was still asleep. 

If THOMAS out of all people can notice that I’m acting strangely, then my behavior must have been really unusual. He’s not exactly known for picking up on subtle emotions the way Ralph is. As much as I hate to admit it, they’re both right; I was acting like Lavender Brown. The only reason she acted that way towards Ron Weasley was because she had gone completely gaga over him. Totally head over heels in love with him holy shit I think I have feelings for Puck. That certainly explains a lot. 

Before my mind can start spiraling out of control from this last thought, I feel someone wrapping an arm around me. When I look to see who it was, Harry’s looking back at me.

“You okay, Tara?” he asks. “You looked spaced out as we were chatting.”

“She’s probably daydreaming about her wittle Won-Won,” Thomas teases before I can get a word in.

“Will you stop?” I tell Thomas angrily.

“Ooh, I’m scared.”

“Can someone fill me in on what’s going on?” Louis asks, clearly confused.

“Tara was starting to act hysterical when Puck was still passed out a couple hours after we got back to the hotel,” Ralph explains matter-of-factly. “So, in typical Thomas fashion, he’s teasing her about it by referencing the sixth Harry Potter movie.”

“You agreed with him!” I nearly shout.

“Well, you were getting pretty shaken up.”

“You’re one to talk about getting shook up. You still haven’t told us where that hickey came from.”

“Alright, enough!” Louis exclaims. “You guys can bicker all you want later, but Harry and I both have flights to catch early tomorrow morning, so I would like to get some sleep.”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“Anyway, after some discussion during which Carson was being a bit hardheaded about Puck fainting at the end of your performance, the four of us decided that Pink World is advancing to the final round of auditions,” Harry tells us. “None of us were really able to tell that there was anything wrong with Puck during your performance, and once again you were one of the strongest bands today. Although, both Carson and Jeff want to let Puck know that he doesn’t need to push himself quite so hard the next time he’s feeling under the weather, or any of you for that matter.” As he’s talking, his hand rubs up and down my arm, which appears to get under Puck’s skin for some reason.

“I woke up light-headed, and neither food or water helped reduce that woozy feeling,” Puck replies. “I put all of my energy into playing because I didn’t want to detract from the quality of the band’s sound by allowing my performance to suffer.” 

“I understand that and can respect that to a certain extent. However, there have been cases where people have dropped dead from pushing themselves too hard, so just try to find a balance, that’s all.” As Louis tells us the details for the final round of auditions, Harry moves his hand to my shoulder and gently squeezes it.

“You feel really tight,” he murmurs to me. “I can relieve some pressure if you want.”

“Okay,” I tell him, ignoring the ever-increasing nervous feeling in my stomach. Harry moves to the other side of the bed, and I shift my position so that he has better access to my back. As Harry starts massaging the kinks out, I glance over at Puck and instantly become alarmed. If Harry rubbing my arm mildly irritated Puck, then Harry massaging my shoulders seems to have really pissed him off. 

“Are you okay?” I ask him. He only shakes his head in reply.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just hungry,” Puck answers angrily.

Yeah right, Puck. I’m calling BS. Hangry does not explain how you look like you’re about to murder Harry in five seconds.

“I think I have some chips in my room,” Ralph offers. “Why don’t we go look for them, Puck?” I can tell Ralph’s also calling BS based on the tone of his voice. He’s done it before. Thomas and Puck goof off together, but Puck goes to Ralph whenever he needs to have a serious conversation about anything, including his emotions. Puck gets up and follows Ralph outside the hotel room, and after wishing me good night, Thomas and Louis aren’t far behind, leaving me alone with Harry. The very idea has me tense up. Harry makes me nervous.

“Try to relax,” Harry tells me. “I can’t help you if you keep tightening up.”

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay,” Harry replies. “Just don’t stiffen up, or I can’t work out the knots.” I close my eyes so that I can attempt to relax, but my mind pulls a trick on me; while it does stop freaking out over being alone with Harry, it decides it’s time to start obsessing about Puck instead.

I wonder what it would be like to have Puck massage my shoulders. Sure, Harry’s doing a really good job and putting the right amount of pressure in the right places and going at the perfect tempo, but it would be nice if Puck were the one doing this. He might be more tender Tara oh my god you’ve definitely developed feelings for your best friend. This isn’t good no not at all. You’re being a walking cliché from a cheesy rom-com Puck always bashed the rom-coms for having two best friends fall in love with each other you need to control yourself what about the band bands have broken up due to romances this band means too much to Puck I cannot be the reason Pink World falls apart it would break Puck’s heart plus things didn’t go so well when Puck and Sofia dated and broke up I can’t do this no no no I can’t---

“Everything okay?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” I respond. “I’m just caught up in my head.”

“I get caught up in my own head sometimes, too,” he replies. “The key is to not get too lost in there, or you might have a difficult time finding your way back. Do you need to talk about it?”

“I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully. “I think this is something that I’m going to have to sleep on.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I should probably let you be.” Harry stops massaging and gets off the bed.

“Good night, Tara. See you in LA.”

“Night, Harry,” I reply as he walks towards the door. When he opens it, he politely scoots out of the way to let Puck and Ralph back in before leaving the room entirely. Puck quietly walks over to his bed and plops down on it, and Ralph beckons me to join him outside.

“So, Puck and I had a rather interesting conversation about you,” Ralph tells me once the door is closed behind us. 

“Okay…” I respond nervously. Where is this going?

“Look, you and I both know that Puck saying he was hungry was a complete lie and that something deeper was bothering him when he said that,” Ralph says.

“Yeah, I figured as much. Did it have something to do with Harry?”

“It has everything to do with Harry. Puck got jealous, you see.”

“Jealous?” I repeat. Ralph sighs.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Puck’s had a crush on you basically since you joined the band. I kinda figured he felt something towards you when we went out to celebrate our talent show win in March because he would not stop looking at you, but I didn’t realize that his feelings went back quite that far.” Holy shit. This can’t be happening.

“Um…well…” I stammer.

“You like him too, don’t you?”

“P-Possibly. I’m still working that one out in my head.”

“Well, I think you should talk to him. He needs to know how you’re feeling, one way or another. Better to be upfront about it than to skirt around the issue.” Before I can argue, Ralph wishes me good night and walks away towards his room. Having no other choice, I put my key card in the slot and go back inside my room. Puck’s blankly staring at the television when I enter the room, and he doesn’t even acknowledge my presence when I walk over to my bed.

“Puck?” I ask, sitting down on my bed. He doesn’t respond.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Still no verbal response, but he does turn down the volume.

“Ralph told me what you said to him.” Puck rolls his eyes as he turns the television off.

“Of course he did,” he grumbles, looking straight ahead. “Get it over with, Tara. I know what you’re going to say, so just say it so that I can start thinking of you as just a bandmate.”

“Puck, where did you get the idea that I was rejecting you?” This finally gets Puck to look at me.

“Wait, so…” Puck trails off, probably trying not to get his hopes too high. I take a deep breath to soothe my nerves.

“I’m still trying to process everything, but Thomas and Ralph picking on me for being overly emotional about you earlier made me realize that perhaps I might have feelings for you, too.”

September

The next month flies by quickly as Pink World practices for the final round of auditions in Los Angeles. After one of the practices, Puck and I have an in-depth conversation about what happened in New York, and we decide that for now, it would be best for the band if we wait to pursue anything romantically until we’re finished with Rock Royale so that we can properly focus on the show without feelings getting in the way. For the LA auditions in Ahmanson Theatre, I’ll be singing “Promises in the Dark” by Pat Benatar. For whatever reason, I consistently struggle with hitting the high note in the song. Even by the time we’re in LA and have had nearly a week to practice, I can only hit a few notes below the high one without sounding atrocious. 

This round of auditions is the most intense. For starters, they’re being televised live for the premiere of the show. All the bands waiting backstage get to watch others perform on screens set up throughout. If I mess this high note up, millions of people will know about it, and it might prevent Pink World from making it on the show. As a result, any nervousness I felt in New York is nothing compared to how I feel the morning of the LA auditions. Puck, Thomas, and Ralph try their best to comfort me backstage, but nothing they’re saying is really helping me calm down.

“Excuse me?” someone asks, causing our conversation to stop. When I look over to see who spoke, I find myself staring at a slender, tall, pretty girl that looks around our age.

“Can we help you?” Thomas asks the girl standing in front of us. She has shoulder-length brunette hair, light blue eyes that appear to be sparkling, and super tan skin. She could be a model with her looks. I certainly wouldn’t mind looking at her all day. She’s absolutely gorgeous.

Wait. Where are these thoughts coming from?

“Are you Pink World?” she inquires.

“Yeah,” Ralph answers. “Why do you ask?”

“My name’s Bella,” Bella replies. “My band performed after you guys at the New York auditions, and we saw someone pass out on stage.”

“That would be me,” Puck states.

“Oh, no!” Bella exclaims. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to see if you were alright, but I never got the chance to.”

“I’m fine,” Puck tells Bella. “I woke up feeling lightheaded that morning, and I poured all of my energy into playing to compensate. It turned out that I overcompensated, and I ended up fainting from exhaustion.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better…” Bella trails off, as she doesn’t know any of our names.

“Puck. I was on the lead guitar. Thomas here’s on the drums, Ralph’s on the bass guitar, and Tara was on the vocals. She and I switch between singing and playing guitar.”

“That’s really cool!” Bella smiles radiantly, and I’m in awe by it. “I wanted to tell you guys that you killed it out there on stage, but obviously with Puck fainting I wasn’t able to.”

“Well, thank you, Bella,” Ralph replies. My eyes focus on Bella’s outfit, which consists of a light green short sleeved button-up blouse, light wash high waisted skinny jeans, and white high-top Converse. I wonder what type of music her band performs.

“I especially enjoyed Tara singing,” Bella remarks.

“Really?” I ask her.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I liked how you sounded angelic but flirty at the same time. You really sold the song.” 

“T-Thank you,” I slightly stutter. She smiles again, and my palms start to get sweaty. Oh, shit. This can’t be happening. Not again.

“Good luck today,” Bella states. “I’m sure you guys will smash it.”

“Thanks,” Ralph replies. “Good luck to your band, too.”

“Thank you.” Bella walks away, presumably back to her band. Once she’s out of earshot, Thomas starts mock singing,

“You’re perfect, you’re beautiful, you look like Linda Evangelista, you’re a model---”

“Thomas, stop,” Puck retorts. As Puck and Thomas are playfully bickering, my mind starts short circuiting. 

No, no, no. What are my emotions doing? First, it was Harry. I’ve had the crush for a couple years, and I’ve been able to handle it because he’s a celebrity and I’m a fan and generally those type of relationships don’t become romantic. Even now, there’s a judge-contestant relationship between Harry and me, so I can prioritize the show over any feelings I might have for him. Then, there’s Puck. We talked and agreed to wait to pursue anything until after the show, but even if the show wasn’t a thing, I would be able to tolerate my feelings because Harry’s a celebrity, and Puck’s an actual person in my life. So, that’s fine. But now Bella has to come along and make things that much more complicated, because there’s the possibility that I have feelings for three different individuals at the same time, and I’m going to be interacting with all of them during the show. I’ve never been good at making decisions, but surely this isn’t normal. And that’s all before the fact that Bella’s a GIRL, and I’ve only ever developed feelings for GUYS, and---

“Tara, are you okay?” Puck asks. “Your eyes are the size of saucers.”

“Not exactly,” I answer before I can stop myself. Goddammit, Harry’s already made Puck really jealous. I can only imagine how he’s going to react once I tell him about Bella.

“Wanna talk about it?” My body acts before my mind can, and I end up quietly nodding my head. Puck tells Thomas and Ralph that we’ll be right back, and we head over to a quiet area backstage.

“What’s wrong?” Puck asks, concern seeping into his strangely soft, deep voice. “Are you still worried about not hitting the high note when we perform today?”

“Yes, but there’s something else now,” I answer.

“What is it?” I take a deep breath before responding in a near whisper,

“I think Bella’s really, really cute. Like, extremely cute. And I don’t know what to do.” Puck doesn’t respond at first and develops a stony look on his face, which makes me anxious.

“Are you telling me that you might have feelings for the girl we just talked to?” Puck asks, his tone matching his facial expression. I start rambling.

“I mean, I don’t know for certain, because we just met, and she may turn out to be a complete bitch if and when we get to know each other more, but just on first impressions, it’s a possibility that I might have developed a crush on her, but again, I don’t know for sure.” Again, silence.

“Puck?” I ask after the silence become unbearable. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why my emotions are running amok and making me fall for people left and right. I wish I could just focus on you and get on with it---”

“Tara.” Once he has my attention, Puck adds,

“I don’t even know how to describe what I’m feeling right now. I’m angry that there might be another person that I have to compete with, which sounds really douchey, and I’m sorry. I already feel inferior to Harry because he appears to be the whole package, and I have a feeling that I’m going to feel the same thing regarding Bella. I feel a green-eyed monster trying its best to break free and lash out. But, there’s something overriding all of that. Right now, you don’t need me to be jealous; you need me to be the supportive best friend. You need someone to understand you and help you through your thoughts and feelings about all this, because if anyone can relate to what you’re going through, it’s me.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I didn’t have anyone to guide me when I found out that I wasn’t straight, and I don’t want you to go through the same thing.” This brings up all sorts of questions in my brain, but before I can ask any of them, one of the backstage crew barks,

“Pink World on stage in five!” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Puck whispers to me as we join our bandmates. Together, we follow another crew member to one of the stage wings. As the minutes tick away, I feel myself get more nervous.

“Relax,” Ralph whispers to me. “We’re going to do just fine.”

“I hope so,” I quietly reply. I spend the remaining time trying to calm myself down, but it isn’t quite enough. 

“Well, hi guys!” Jeff eagerly greets us as we walk on stage and get ourselves set up. I quickly notice that there’s two new faces that have joined Jeff and Carson and that none of the members of One Direction are present.

“Hello,” I reply. At that moment, I realize that there’s cameramen everywhere. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Jeff tells me, as if sensing my fear. “They’re just doing their job. Why don’t you introduce yourselves to my friends Dave and Melissa?”

“Okay,” I respond. “Well, my name’s Tara. To my right’s Puck on the lead guitar, Thomas is behind me on the drums, and Ralph’s to my left on the bass guitar. Together, we are Pink World.”

“That’s a rather interesting name,” Melissa replies. “Who came up with it?” Puck quietly raises his hand.

“Did you also start the band?” I quickly pass the microphone to Puck so that he can give a detailed answer.

“Yes, I did, in the summer before our junior year. Tara and I alternate between singing and playing guitar, depending on the song.”

“So, who’s singing for us today?” Puck hands the microphone back to me.

“I am,” I respond.

“What’s Pink World performing for us today?” Dave asks.

“Pat Benatar’s ‘Promises in the Dark’,” I answer.

“Good luck,” Carson states.

“Thank you,” I reply. I take one last deep breath before quietly counting us in. As Puck starts playing, I start to get into the mood of the song, which starts off somber. My heart starts beating faster the moment I start singing. It’s not until Thomas and Ralph come in that I finally start to loosen up and act like myself. I start to get nervous again when there’s an instrumental break because I know that the high note’s coming up soon. My eyes happen to glance across the auditorium, and they happen to find someone leaning against one of the entrances whose silhouette looks a lot like Harry’s. The possibility of Harry secretly watching our performance strangely gives me confidence that I didn’t have going into this section of the song before. His potential presence lights a fire under my ass to get this right, even if it’s for no other reason than wanting to impress him. For the first time performing this song, I feel self-assured as I sing,

“But promises, you know what they’re for. It sounds so convincing, but you heard it before.” The more I sing, the more hyped I get. Seconds before the moment of truth, I focus my attention to the other side of the auditorium and sing, 

“And so you put up your guard.” Luckily, there’s a camera in that general direction, so I can fake stare into the camera as I sing the verse containing the high note. Instead of cowering away from it, the confidence I’ve gained helps me attack it head on, and I actually hit the high note perfectly. A huge weight gets lifted off my chest as the boys go into their second instrumental solo. I’m able to truly relax and sing the rest of the song with ease. When Thomas and Puck end the song, all the judges, including Carson, stand up and start applauding.

“Wow,” Dave says once the applause dies down. “That was an experience. I really don’t know what else to say. Just absolutely mind-blowing. Well done.”

“Thank you,” I reply quietly.

“So modest!” Melissa gently teases. “All four of you should be extremely proud of yourselves, but Tara, you should especially. You hit that high note spectacularly and really gave the song power.”

“I’m going to add on to what Melissa said about that high note,” Carson states. “I saw you struggle to hit it during practice this week, so naturally I thought that you wouldn’t be able to get it today. It was nice that you were able to find the note at all today, but the fact that you nailed it is quite impressive.”

“Thank you,” I repeat.

“I think the original version of the song had a keyboard,” Jeff remarks. “I liked how you were still able to capture the serious mood at the beginning of the song using two guitars instead of a guitar/piano combo. Overall, you guys delivered another stellar performance.” Sounding like a broken record, I thank Jeff for his feedback.

“So, have we made our decision?” Jeff asks the rest of the judges.

“It’s a definite yes from me,” Dave enthusiastically answers.

“I really think Pink World has something,” Melissa adds. “I want to see what else you guys are capable of, so I’m saying yes as well.”

“Carson?” Jeff asks.

“With the right mentoring, Pink World could become the next big thing,” Carson answers. “So, I’m saying yes.”  
“You know I gotta say yes to you guys,” Jeff adds. “You have four yeses, so congratulations, Pink World: you’ve made it onto Rock Royale.” All four of us lose it as we come together for a group hug. This is really amazing, and I’m excited for what’s to come.


	7. Harry

Should I have sneaked away from Niall, Liam, and Louis to catch a glimpse of Pink World performing, even after Jeff specifically told us to stay where we were until auditions were done? Maybe, maybe not. Do I regret doing it? No. Earlier in the week, I overheard Jeff and Carson talk about how someone in the band was struggling to hit the high note, and I wanted to show my support, even if it was only by watching the band for a few seconds. Liam berates me for leaving the second I come back, Louis sides with me, and Niall obnoxiously laughs through the whole thing, just like old times. I like Liam and Niall, but sometimes they annoy me. Liam has the tendency to treat me like a child, even though I’m only a couple years younger than him. Niall, on the other hand, gets very loud. I’m no stranger to being boisterous, but if Niall’s not eating, sleeping, or performing, he’s acting that way basically non-stop. It always got on my nerves when we were on tour and I’d wanted some peace and quiet. Louis has always been the only person among my bandmates to really get me. Of course, being intimate with each other certainly helped things.

Once Liam finally finishes scolding me, Niall states in his thick Irish accent,

“Now, if we’re done bickering, I’d like to return to my story. So, there was this girl at the pub me and my buddies were at…” Niall’s changed a lot. For one thing, he’s let his natural brown hair grow out instead of having it bleached blond. Personally, I think he looks better with brown hair. He’s also gained weight. He used to be a few steps away from a skinny twig, but now he looks pretty thick. Of course, if Niall’s to be believed, some of the weight gain is probably from all the beers he’s been drinking since the hiatus started. Currently, he’s wearing a plain raspberry-colored t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and black tennis shoes from a brand that I don’t recognize at first sight.

“No offense, Niall, but literally all of the stories you’ve told me have been at pubs,” Louis interrupts, bringing me back into the conversation. “It’s basically the same story over and over again, and to be honest it’s quite boring.”

“And if it doesn’t take place in a pub, it’s most definitely on a golf course,” Liam adds. He’s also changed since we first started our break. He’s gotten a few more tattoos, he looks buffer than I remember, and he’s heavily leaning on urban fashion. Liam’s wearing a thin, gold chain around his neck, an oversized white tee, gray joggers, a white windbreaker, a gold watch, and thick white Air Jordans. He also looks scruffier with his facial hair.

“Oh, come on, guys!” Niall whines. “You know I like going golfing and swinging to me local pub after! It’s brought me stability, dammit!”

“Maybe too much,” I mutter. Louis laughs, Liam chuckles, and Niall groans,

“Quit picking on me!”

“You’re making it far too easy,” Louis replies. “You’re acting like a five-year-old. Don’t worry though, Niall; we still love you, no matter how much you golf or drink.”

“You’re like our brother, after all,” Liam tells Niall. “We gotta tease you sometimes, but we’ll always support you when you need it most.” I mean, I don’t particularly like what Niall’s become during the hiatus, but clearly no one asked for my opinion. We continue catching up until Jeff strolls over to us and plops down on one of the empty chairs.

“We have the final list of the bands that are going to be on Rock Royale,” Jeff announces. “What I’m going to do is go down the list of band names, and you’re going to choose which bands you want in your groups. There’s twenty total, so you each get five. The quicker we go through the list, the quicker we can get out of here.”

“Then, let’s get started,” Louis chirps.

“That’s the spirit!” Jeff replies. He starts going down the list, and for the most part, there really isn’t any conflict about who’s taking which band. Niall takes more country sounding bands, Liam gravitates towards bands that cover top 40 hits and R&B songs, and I focus on classic rock. Louis’s group becomes a grab bag of sorts. For example, the first band he claims is a girl group called The Sparrows, who perform covers of modern heavy metal songs sung by female artists, and the second put a rock spin on a rap song. I snatch Pink World up perhaps a bit too quickly and boldly, but truth is, I feel like I’m the only person out of the four of us that can bring out Pink World’s full potential.

Unfortunately, deciding where to put The Stony Badgers makes our meeting drag. When Jeff calls their name, Louis asks,

“Weren’t they that one band that did a mediocre job at covering hippie tunes?”

“If the stench of patchouli’s anything to go by, they also act like hippies,” I add. Now, I’ve gotten high on weed many, many times, but I also know that there’s a time and a place to engage in that activity. Lighting up a joint right before going out on stage to perform is not one of them.

“Explains part of their name,” Liam responds. “I don’t want them.”

“Neither do I,” Niall replies. “I’m not about smoking joints.” But you’re willing to get your ass drunk every night and act like a fool on social media and almost destroy other people’s property in your drunken state. Okay, Niall.

“I’ll take them, not that I have much choice in the matter,” I tell the group.

“Why’s that?” Niall asks.

“Because Pink World and The Stony Badgers come from the same town, so making them directly compete against each other would make for good television,” I answer defeatedly. Once that’s settled, we quickly go through the rest of the list.

“Alrighty, then,” Jeff says once we’re finished. “Well, let’s get you guys introduced to your bands before heading back to the hotel for the evening.”

“Do you think we could get some of the bands together for some truth or dare once everyone’s settled back at the hotel?” Louis asks as the five of us start walking to the auditorium. One of Louis’s favorite games in the whole wide world is truth or dare. He loves daring people to do all kinds of stupid shit because he thinks that it’s hilarious. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it’s just stupid.

“Sure,” Jeff replies. “It’ll have to be in my room, though. I have to keep an eye on you guys to make sure that nothing bad happens to anyone.”

“Cool!” Louis exclaims.

We’re staying in the Doubletree by Hilton hotel near Ahmanson Theatre from now until the final four bands get announced, and as soon as I put my room key in the doorknob and enter my room, I rummage through my suitcase to find something more comfortable to wear. While I certainly like wearing suits, there are times where I want to kick back and relax. I find that hard to do in a suit. I end up settling on a white band tee and matching black Adidas shorts and shoes. I quickly run a brush through my hair before walking out of my room. As I step outside, I’m greeted with a familiar face walking out of her room.

“Well, hey there,” I say to Tara. When she looks to see who spoke to her, she quietly shakes her head, a smile creeping on her face.

“What’s that for?” I ask, chuckling slightly.

“Out of all the people that could have been in the room across from me, it had to be you,” she replies playfully. She’s wearing a similar outfit to mine, except she’s opted for sweatpants instead of shorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…” she trails off with a gleam in her eye.

“Well, what?” Tara walks closer to me and whispers softly,

“I just don’t want to be awaken up in the middle of the night by you making noises as you jack off to porn.” I was not expecting that to come out of her mouth at all, and I nearly choke on my own spit as she steps back and smiles at me.

“Are you like this with everyone back home?” I ask, shocked.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” she replies as she’s still smiling. God, she’s so pretty.

“Were you going to come upstairs to play truth or dare with us?” I inquire, steering the conversation to a different topic before I say something stupid or inappropriate to her.

“Yeah. Actually, I was going to meet up with my bandmates, since everyone’s staying in separate rooms, and we were going to head over there together.”

“Well, I don’t want you to keep your friends waiting, so I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Okie dokie,” she replies. As she walks away, my mind starts to roam free. The truth is, Tara’s comment about me potentially jerking off loudly and disturbing her makes me feel…something. I wonder what would happen if I did wake her up in that situation. Would she try to go back to sleep and become frustrated when she’s not able to? Would she be aroused by it? Would she get out of bed, walk over to my door, knock on it, and tell me to stop? How would she react to me answering the door in my birthday suit? The more I think about that scenario, the more aroused I start to feel.

Pull yourself together, Styles. She’s a contestant, and you’re her judge. You cannot allow yourself to feel this way towards her. You must show some restraint. Besides, you already have Lou, and he wouldn’t be too happy about you thinking about someone else this soon.

Not including myself, Jeff, Niall, Liam, or Louis, there’s around fifteen people hanging out in Jeff’s hotel suite. Jeff apparently ordered dinner as soon as he got settled in his room, so people are munching on food as Louis and Jeff lay down the rules of the game.

“First of all, there can be no sexual dares involving any of the One Direction members,” Jeff tells the group. “That includes kissing.” That causes three girls to get up with their plates of food and leave the room. Well, alrighty then.

“How about kissing other contestants?” a guy from one of Niall’s bands asks. “Is that allowed?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t, but I’m also not going to stop you if and when that does happen,” Jeff answers.

“If you don’t feel like completing a dare or answering a question, you can say ‘pass’,” Louis adds. “So, if someone is dared to kiss another contestant, for example, you don’t have to do it if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

“That sounds reasonable,” the guy from earlier responds.

“Also, to make this game a bit more exciting, if you pick truth, you have the option of having everyone answer whatever question gets asked, provided that you answer the question first,” Louis states.

“Sounds good,” Ralph replies. With that, Louis starts the game by asking Niall,

“Truth or dare?”

“Um, truth,” Niall answers. “I don’t want to take part in any of your dares after what happened last time.” The last truth or dare game the four of us played together was towards the end of our last tour before the hiatus, and Niall nearly ended up in the hospital from blood alcohol poisoning, among other things.

“If you had to give up one of these activities for the rest of your life, would you rather quit drinking Guinness every day or golfing?” Immediately, Niall groans, and Liam and I try our best not to laugh.

“Can I pass?” Niall asks. “That is one of the hardest questions ever.”

“Fine,” Louis sighs, rolling his eyes. “Pick someone else.” As the game continues, I notice that a girl from one of Louis’s bands has snuck her way to where Pink World are sitting. Tara seems a bit nervous about it, and Puck looks worried. I wonder what that’s all about. Things start picking up when someone forces everyone to answer,

“What is something that you’ll never eat?” People have typical answers at first: broccoli, Brussel sprouts, that sort of thing. When it’s Tara’s turn to answer, the gleam in her eye from earlier returns. What kind of devilish thing is going to come out of her mouth this time?

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says nonchalantly. “If I had to guess, probably dick.” Jeff and Liam spit out their drink as everyone starts cracking up at Tara’s answer.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” I end up replying once the initial laughter dies down.

“Have you seen a dick?” Tara asks me. “They don’t look that appetizing.” Personally, I beg to differ, but I can’t exactly say that to a room full of people I barely know.

“There’s always pussy,” the girl hanging out with Pink World retorts as she scoots closer to Tara, wraps an arm around her, and pecks her on the cheek. That’s a power move if ever I saw one. I would almost think Tara was oblivious to it if it weren’t for her cheeks turning pink. Meanwhile, Puck looks like he’s about to vomit, which can either mean that he finds the PDA disgusting or he’s feeling jealous. The second possibility causes a part of me to start feeling grouchy, and I’m not entirely sure why.

“Can we please move on to the next person?” Liam asks. 

“Certainly,” Jeff agrees. “Tara, it’s your turn.”

“Alright,” she replies. “Ralph, truth or date?”

“Um, truth, I guess,” Ralph replies.

“Thomas, you can answer this question, too, since you seem to know something about this: what exactly happened in New York?” Puck immediately covers his mouth as he goes, 

“Oh, shit.”

“What’s going on?” Niall asks.

“Ralph got a hickey from someone,” Louis answers. “Tara let it slip while Harry and I were checking in on Pink World after Puck had fainted.”

“He showed up to breakfast one day with one on his neck,” Puck further explains. “When Tara and I asked him about it, Ralph started shaking, but Thomas looked smug as he was sipping on his drink. We never did get an answer out of either one of them.”

“I gave it to him,” Thomas states nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather. Tara nearly chokes on her drink, and I can’t say I blame her. I wouldn’t have clocked Thomas as being gay or even bisexual.

“Would it be against the rules to ask someone to elaborate on an answer?” Puck asks Louis.

“Normally, yes, but I’m actually curious on what led to that happening,” Louis replies. Poor Ralph has curled in on himself, his face flushed with embarrassment. Clearly someone isn’t comfortable with sharing this story, so I decide to try to spare him.

“Listen, neither one of you has to tell us if you don’t feel like it,” I tell Ralph and Thomas. “That’s totally fine.”

“It’s bound to come out sooner or later, so it might as well happen now,” Thomas responds. Well, I tried. Sorry, Ralph.

“Ralph and I were talking about different things when Ralph revealed to me that he’d never had his first kiss and that it was daunting to him because he didn’t know what to do or expect. So, being the good friend that I am, I was like, “listen, we’ve been tight for a few years, so I’d like to believe I have a pretty solid idea of what you like and don’t like; what about you use me as your first kiss?” He was like, “I’m a little nervous, but sure, go ahead”, and so I kissed him. Nothing too crazy; just a nice, gentle kiss on the lips.” This story doesn’t add up. Is Thomas hiding something?

“There’s got to be more to this story,” Louis chimes in when there’s a natural break in Thomas’ tale. “How did a nice, gentle kiss turn into a hickey?” It’s at this point Liam gets up and leaves the room. To some, Liam walking out of the room is a sign that he’s homophobic, but I know that’s not the reason he left. Liam tends to get skittish whenever anyone---doesn’t matter the gender or the sexuality---starts talking about anything that happens in the bedroom; he believes that what happens in the bedroom needs to stay in the bedroom and between the people involved. It’s a little-known fact about him that contradicts his public persona. Once Liam’s gone, Thomas continues.

“Well, Ralph asked me to kiss him again, I obliged, and---”

“---when he pulled back I wanted him to keep going,” Ralph interrupts. He seems less embarrassed, but he also could just want to wrap the story up quickly in order to take the heat off him. “We ended up making out, and the next thing I know Thomas gives me a hickey. So, that’s how that happened. I was so nervous to tell anyone because I was scared that I would get judged for it.”

“Ralph, listen to me: neither Tara nor I have a problem with that,” Puck tells Ralph while Tara silently confirms. “I’ve wanted to kiss a guy since I was thirteen, but I’ve never gotten the opportunity to do so.” I kinda figured Puck wasn’t straight; he acted a bit too flamboyant on stage for it to have been just an act. Meanwhile, the girl that’s been sitting really close to Tara is now cuddling her, and Tara looks soft. There’s something about the girl that has me feeling uneasy. I might need to keep an eye on her.

“You know, I have the same question for Louis,” Puck says, snapping me out of my head and causing me to immediately panic. He heard us?

“I think that’s enough for one evening,” Jeff announces. “You don’t have to go back to your rooms, but you can’t stay here; I have to get up pretty early.” As people are filing out of Jeff’s room, I notice Bella lingering next to Tara until Puck appears to shoo her away to talk to his bandmates. Then, next thing I know, Louis catches up with him and practically drags him away towards the elevator, completely ignoring my presence. What in the hell is Louis doing, and why do his plans seem to involve Puck?


	8. Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: pot smoking, sex (dom/sub)*, mentions of abuse, attempting suicide, cutting  
*when I wrote the scene in italics, I was still in a Larrie headspace. Looking back at it, I cringe at how magpied the whole thing is, but I'm choosing to keep it in for those in the audience that are into that sort of thing. If you don't want to know the specific details of fictional Harry and Louis hooking up, you should be able to scroll past all the italics and still get the general gist of the chapter.

“Do you smoke weed?” Louis asks me. We’re currently in Louis’s room, and he’s rummaging through his open suitcase on top of his bed with a sense of urgency. It’s in this same sense of urgency that Louis yanked me from my bandmates and rushed the two of us to his room; frankly, I’m confused as to why he’s acting this way.

“I used to, back in middle school,” I reply. “I stopped when I entered high school so that I could focus on my studies.”

“Fair enough,” Louis responds. “Would you be open to the idea of sharing a joint with me as we talk?” I think about it for a few seconds.

“Yeah, why not?” I end up deciding. Louis grabs a Ziploc bag containing weed and some strips of paper, a lighter, and a bottle of vanilla-scented cologne. He sits down in front of the room’s desk long enough to prepare and roll the joint. Once he’s finished, he stands up and turns his attention to me.

“Come on,” he beckons. “We’ll smoke out on the balcony. I don’t want to stink up the room.” Once we’re outside, Louis has me shut the sliding door behind me as he leans against the railing and lights the blunt up. When I join him, he passes it to me, and I take a toke before giving it back to Louis.

“So, I have a couple questions for you, if you wouldn’t mind answering them for me,” he states.

“Okay,” I reply. “Shoot.” Louis takes another hit before asking,

“So, what’s the deal between you and The Stony Badgers? Harry was saying something about how the two bands being in the same group would bring drama, and you didn’t have the nicest expression on your face when you found out that you guys were in the same group.” To say that I didn’t have the nicest expression on my face earlier this afternoon is an understatement. I was livid and terrified at the idea of directly competing with The Stony Badgers. Sofia knows how to play dirty, and the last thing I want is for her to sabotage Pink World and get us eliminated from Rock Royale.

“Well, for starters, The Stony Badgers consist of a few of my old smoking buddies in middle school and my ex-girlfriend,” I answer as I take a drag of the joint. “My old friends got pissed that I wanted to be mature by focusing on school instead of getting high all the time, and my ex was really abusive during our relationship and nearly caused me to commit suicide. She once was a member of Pink World, but she crawled over to The Stony Badgers when I kicked her out of the band.”

“That sounds awful,” Louis replies.

“It was. Luckily, I got help, and I have the support of my family and my bandmates. Otherwise, I’d probably not be here.”

“I know what you mean. A couple years ago, my mom died, and then everything else started to fall apart at once, so for a few months I turned to cutting.” 

“Wow. I’m so sorry, Louis.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just like you, I got help and a support system, so I haven’t done it for about a year.” We smoke in silence for a moment, then Louis asks,

“This might not be any of my business, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but is there something going on between you and Tara?” Louis asks. “I saw how you looked as the girl sitting with you guys was hanging all over Tara, and I was honestly a bit concerned for you. You looked like you were going to get sick.” 

Shit, I think as I sigh.

“It’s complicated,” I tell him.

“I’ve got time.” Louis takes one last drag from the blunt and sets it down on the little patio table between us.

“Well…” I trail off, not really sure how to explain my current relationship with Tara.

“Do you like her?”

“Yeah. She’s…” The THC is definitely clouding my mind, but even if I was sober I’d still have a difficult time finding words to describe how I feel about Tara.

“...beautiful?” Louis finishes. “Stunning? Hot?”

“Beautiful,” I repeat quietly. “Inside and out.”

“Does she like you?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t seem too sure of that.”

“That’s where it gets complicated.”

“Oh, so she likes you, but only as a friend?”

“More like she likes me, but she also has a thing for a couple other people.” Louis nods his head.

“I see. So, I take it you’ve not snagged her properly yet?”

“What do you mean by that, Louis?”

“I mean, you haven’t made things official with her.”

“We wanted to wait until we were done with the show.” Louis shakes his head at me, failing to hide a grin.

“What?” I ask him.

“There’s your first mistake,” he answers. “If you wait to pursue anything for too long, she might just slip away and hook up with one of the other people she has a thing for.”

“I don’t want a potential relationship to negatively impact the band.”

“And?” I take a deep breath. The only other person that knows what’s about to come out of my mouth is Ralph. My parents and my therapist don’t even know this.

“And, I don’t want another Sofia.”

“Is she your ex?”

“Yeah.” Silence ensues for a few moments. Then, Louis says,

“So, I’m pretty sure there’s something that you’ve been dying to ask me. Now’s the time to ask it.” Once again, I take a deep breath.

“What happened in New York?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” he asks me. “The answer might not be the one you’re expecting.”

“I mean, I did hear you.” Louis sighs.

“You can’t tell anyone this story, not even your bandmates. Do you understand? If this leaks out, there will be some serious consequences.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I tell him. “I’m good at keeping secrets.” With that, Louis launches into his story.

August, New York

Wednesday, 7:57 pm

Louis

I’m chilling in my bed and watching a random show on the telly when I hear a knock on the door. I mute the program and walk over to the door to see who knocked. When I open the door, I’m a little surprised to see Harry standing on the other side. When I talked to him in June, he didn’t seem too eager to chat. I wonder what’s changed.

“Well, hi, Harry,” I greet. “I wasn’t expecting you. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you,” he replies in a really deep voice. God, I’d forgotten how fucking handsome he was. Even though he’s only in pajamas, he still looks incredible.

“In that case, come in,” I tell him. “Make sure to shut the door behind you.” My heart starts racing as Harry enters the room and sits on the chair next to my bed, but I try my best to keep my composure.

“How can I help you?” I ask him. Harry glances at the ground and clasps his hands together.

“I’ve been thinking about our phone conversation,” he quietly answers.

“Which one?” I ask. “We’ve had a few phone conversations recently.” Harry sighs.

“The one where I kept interrupting you every time you tried to say, ‘I love you’.” Nice to know that I’ve not been the only one thinking about that particular conversation.

“And?” I feel a lump in my throat as Harry looks up at me.

“I’m sorry for acting like a jerk,” he apologizes. “It had been years since we last talked, and I didn’t want to admit to myself that I hadn’t…exactly…gotten over you.” I’m now a nervous wreck. Harry still has feelings for me? After everything that happened the last time we were in a romantic relationship?

“Harry,” I whisper, my mind struggling to come up with anything else to say.

“I miss you, Lou,” he whispers back, tears brimming in his eyes. “I really do.” I’m rendered speechless, and it gets worse as Harry grabs my hand and looks deep into my eyes.

“Lou?” Shit. Harry’s voice went up in pitch. He’s softening up. This can only mean one thing, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist him.

“Yeah?” Why does it feel like time’s dragging on?

“Kissy?” If I’m not shaking on the outside, I’m definitely shaking on the inside. Whenever Harry gets in this place in his head, his eyes get brighter, and I normally cannot control myself around him. I find myself leaning in and giving him a kiss. My mind screams that this is wrong, so I end up only giving Harry a quick peck before backing off. Truth is, I feel extremely anxious. It’s been several years since Harry and I were this intimate with each other. I’ve tried really hard to mentally block the sensual memories involving him, but in this moment they’re threatening to break free from their restraints. 

“Lou?” Harry asks quietly, making me leave my thoughts and return to reality. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I quickly assure him. “It’s not you. I’m just really scared.” 

“Of what?” That question causes everything I’ve been keeping to myself to tumble out of my mouth.

“I’m scared of the consequences, Harry. You know how difficult things were for us the last time. I don’t want to be the one holding you back. I’ve seen some of the things you’ve accomplished since the hiatus, and you seem better off without me. I’ve tried my best to forget about you and focus on myself, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since this show was in its early development stages.” Harry looks deep into my eyes, and I start to feel nauseous from the intensity of his stare.

“Do you need me to take control?” he asks after a long silence.

“What?”

“It’ll only be until you get back into the swing of things,” Harry explains. Even though my mind is telling me to not listen to him and to end this right now before we go too far, something in my gut is telling me to let go and see what happens.

“Um, sure,” I mumble. Harry gets up from the chair and slides onto the bed. I reposition myself accordingly. Harry cups my face with one of his hands, takes one last good look at me, and closes his eyes as he leans in and kisses me softly yet tenderly. Immediately, my heart starts beating faster, and I start remembering everything in a rush. It’s too late to turn back now. I kiss him back, and things quickly escalate to us making out intensely. I feel like I’m burning up, so I stop momentarily to take my clothes off and throw them somewhere in the room. Apparently, Harry’s feeling the same way, for his clothes aren’t too far behind mine. 

As we resume our make-out session in just our boxers, I find myself gently pushing Harry back and getting on top of him like old times. Just as promised, Harry backs down a little as I become more comfortable taking control of this situation. After a few more minutes, we break away, and I find myself admiring Harry’s features like I never did before, even when we were in a serious relationship. Harry’s a very handsome man, and it’s normally very hard to take your eyes off him. However, the way Harry looks right now is on a whole other level. His eyes sparkle, his face has an even, light pink flush, and his lips are a deep, rosy pink. I would be perfectly content with kissing him until we got tired and calling it a night. However, Harry has other plans, for he starts playing with the band of my pants. 

“What are you doing?” I gently ask him. Instead of answering me, Harry ignores me and continues messing with my boxer’s band. So, I grab his hands and hold them in front of me. This causes Harry to whimper and for us to slip into very familiar roles: I become the loving but stern Dom to Harry’s soft, feminine, and rather impatient Sub. 

“Harry, you know the rules,” I quietly chide. “You have to use your words.” I thought that I would have a difficult time acting dominant after years of not engaging with that side of me, but it’s coming very naturally to me. It’s honestly a bit scary.

“Lou!” Harry whines.

“What do you want?” Once again, Harry doesn’t answer my question, and he attempts to break free from my grasp. Instinctively, I grip tighter.

“Harry, you clearly want something, or you wouldn’t have started messing with my boxers.”

“Off,” he mumbles.

“Words.”

“I wanna take off your pants.”

“And what are you wanting to do once I’m completely naked?” I ask him.

“Blowjob.” I look at Harry sternly, and he elaborates,

“I wanna give you a blowjob, Lou.” I start feeling nervous again. While I’ve received plenty of blowjobs since Harry and I broke up, none of them compare to the ones I remember Harry giving. He had a way of making me climax so fervently that I nearly forgot my own name. That’s how exceptionally talented Harry is at them. My gut takes the lead again.

“Alright,” I tell him. “But we’re going by my pace, since you didn’t initially answer me when I asked you what you wanted. Understood?”

“Yes, Lou,” Harry whispers in reply.

“Good. Now, I’m going to let go of your hands, but I want you to keep them right where they’re at until I tell you otherwise.” Harry nods, and I allow him to have his hands back. I scoot away from Harry, who quietly whines in protest. I need to calm myself down before we go any further with this. I can’t be a nervous wreck right now, not when Harry has the potential to play me like a fiddle when he starts sucking my dick. So, I close my eyes and take a couple deep breathes. Then, I get off the bed completely and walk over to the right side of it.

“Get up and stand in front of me.” Harry quickly complies.

“Kneel.” Once Harry’s on his knees, I order,

“Take them off slowly.” Harry groans, but he still listens as he grabs my boxers and slowly drags them off me. Once Harry’s tossed my boxers across the room, I tell him,

“Get up, go to the bathroom, grab the lube, and come back.” While Harry’s looking for the lube, I get back on top of the bed and lie down on my back. When Harry returns, he assumes proper position without me having to give him any instructions.

“Open the bottle, squeeze some into your hand, and rub it all over.” The lube’s a natural fruit-flavored one, and I know that neither Harry nor I are allergic to it. Harry takes his sweet ole time applying the lube all over my shaft, and a bit of pre-cum has already started to come out by the time he’s finished.

“Mouth.” Harry hesitates for a moment and looks down away from me.

“Harry, it’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s not gonna bite you.” He strokes the length of it, still appearing nervous. At that moment, I realize that this must be part of the script Harry has composed in his head. He wants to do this reverently. Finally, Harry looks up at me, gently takes the tip, and wraps his mouth around it. God, I’d forgotten how sexy Harry looks with a penis in his mouth.

Pull yourself together, Louis, I tell myself. Somehow, this translates to me giving Harry a bit of a pep talk.

“I want you to make me remember what I’ve been missing for the past few years,” I state. “I want you to make me regret ever forgetting about you. I want you to reach deep inside yourself and give me everything you got until the only thing I can think about is how fantastic you feel. Do you think you can do that for me?” Harry nods his head as much as he can under the circumstances.

“Then, go.” Harry promptly stick more in his mouth until about half of me’s sticking out. He starts rubbing the exposed half of my penis as he’s working wonders with his tongue. For a short moment, I try to keep quiet so that I don’t disturb anyone, but that idea quickly flies out the window. Soon, I find myself moaning loudly as feelings of intense pleasure wash over me. All my faded memories of Harry giving me blowjobs aren’t even close to the one he’s giving me right now. I feel like I’m floating as I’m orgasming to the sound of me screaming my head off ecstatically. Harry takes all of this in stride as he continues. Once I ejaculate inside his mouth, he stops rubbing, takes me out of his mouth, and looks at me as he swallows. I cup his face with my hands and whisper to him,

“You did such a phenomenal job, Harry. Easily the best blowjob I’ve ever had in my entire life. God, I’ve missed you so much, Harry.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Harry tells me softly. “I’ve missed doing everything I could to make you happy.” An idea starts forming in my head. In the past, I often took advantage of Harry’s eagerness to please, and I didn’t return the favor as much as I should have. As tired as I feel, it wouldn’t be fair for Harry to go through all that work without getting something in return. After all, he’s went above and beyond tonight.

“Harry,” I say to him. “I think you deserve a treat for all your hard work. So, why don’t you grab the lube and put some on your fingers?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asks.

“I didn’t think I was joking,” I answer. As Harry follows my instruction, I scoot off the bed and bend over it, making sure that my ass is sticking out for Harry to have easy access.

“You know the drill,” I tell him once I’m comfortable. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, I feel a finger go up my asshole. I feel myself tighten around Harry’s finger, and I can tell he struggles to get it out.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” I apologize. “I haven’t used a dildo in quite a while.”

“It’s okay,” Harry replies. “I’ve always enjoyed opening someone up. Besides, I don’t mind taking extra time for you, Lou.” As he continues fingering me, I slowly feel myself starting to loosen up. Eventually, Harry’s able to stick a second finger inside. I open up more quickly, and it doesn’t take long for Harry to use a third. Once again, I find myself moaning loudly as Harry’s working me with his fingers.

“You know, I’d forgotten how loud you were,” Harry tells me once I’m loose enough.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry gives me a once-over and smirks, making my legs feel like jelly.

“It’s arousing to hear you scream because of me,” he answers seductively. I’m momentarily caught off guard by Harry’s response. He really knows how to make someone worked up about him.

“Well, I’m about to make you scream obnoxiously loud,” I tell him. “Take off your pants, rub some lube on yourself, and lie down on your back. I’m gonna ride you.” Harry couldn’t have gotten rid of his underwear faster if he wanted to. In no time, he’s lying on his back, and I climb on top of him and position myself over him.

“Ready?” I ask him.

“Yeah,” he whispers. With that, I insert the tip of Harry’s shaft inside me and lower myself down. Even with Harry’s excellent prep work, it stings a little as it enters into me. After I bounce up and down a couple times, though, the sensation goes away as pleasure takes over. I look down at Harry’s face as I’m riding him. His eyes are watering, his face’s flushed, and his mouth’s slightly open as he moans softly. I don’t want him to be quiet, though. I want him to feel the same way that I did. So, I go faster. Before long, Harry’s got his eyes closed and nearly howling as he begins orgasming. Our voices harmonize as I join in, and Harry comes inside me quicker than I would have liked. Once he appears finished, I get off him and plop down next to him. Immediately, he shifts so that he’s looking at me.

“Lou?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t leave again.”

“I’ll try my best not to,” I whisper to him. I know that I stink and need to take a shower, but all I want to do is cuddle with Harry. So, I wrap my arms around him and scoot closer to him. He adjusts so that he’s the little spoon, and we end up falling asleep.

“Holy shit,” I tell Louis once he’s finished telling me his story. It’s gotten really dark outside, and I wonder just how late it’s gotten. Meanwhile, my hopes are rising and dashing themselves in a vicious cycle. Louis likes dicks, but he seems to only prefer Harry’s.

“Let me ask you something,” Louis says to me. “You said that you’ve wanted to make out with a guy for a while, but have you ever wanted to suck someone’s dick?” No, no, no. He can’t know the full truth. If he does, Pink World could easily get disqualified. But, I also don’t want to lie to him. So, I end up simply answering,

“Yes.”

“Any particular person?”

“The one that made me realize I was bi.” I need to tread carefully and not let it slip to Louis that the dick in question is his. “He was in some YouTube videos that I watched when I was thirteen. He was pretty arousing to me at the time.”

And still is.

“Would I know who this person is?”

“Louis, I…”

“Come on, Puck! I’m not going to scream the bloke’s name out into the city streets below. In fact, I don’t have to tell anyone at all---”

“Can we please stop talking about this?” I snap. Louis looks at me sternly, and I can see the gears in his head starting to turn. I feel like I just fucked up big time.

“Alright, then,” he finally says, maintaining the stern facial expression. “It’s getting late, anyway. You should probably go back to your room and get some rest.”


	9. Tara

“Good afternoon, everybody!” Jeff exclaims. The bands standing in front of him, including us, don’t return the enthusiasm as we greet him back. Earlier this morning as we were eating breakfast, we found out this week’s schedule. From today, Saturday, to Wednesday, bands will be practicing at different recording studios throughout Los Angeles depending on whose group they’re in. Since Pink World’s in Harry’s group, we get to endure nearly an hour-long car ride to join him and Jeff at Royal Rehearsal. On Thursday, all the bands reunite at Ahmanson Theatre for dress rehearsal before we actually perform in front of the judges on Friday. Not to my surprise, we’re greeted with cameras as soon as we step inside the rehearsal building.

“I have a question,” one of the guys from a band called The Pythons states rudely before Jeff has the chance to continue talking. “Why the fuck did we have to drive 50 minutes to get here?” Besides us and The Stony Badgers, the bands in Harry’s group are Dark Galaxy, Stripes, and The Pythons. 

“Because this is where I wanted you guys to rehearse,” Harry replies. While Jeff looks chipper in a yellow t-shirt and light-wash blue jeans, Harry looks a bit sullen in an all-black ensemble. I hope he got enough sleep last night, because he appears pretty tired. After a short, awkward silence, Jeff elaborates,

“This is where you guys will be rehearsing while you’re on the show. Everything you need will be provided to you at no cost. But, I’m sure you don’t want to know those details. You want to know about your challenge this week, don’t you?” The five bands get slightly more excited, as we’re curious about what we have to perform for our first week in the competition.

“You’ve spent the last three months going through the audition process,” Harry states. “While we’ve gotten a basic idea of who you are as a band, we’ve only seen you perform under a high level of stress. We have no idea who you are under relaxed circumstances. So, this week, you get to perform any song of your choosing that you’re very confident about.”

“Be careful, though,” Jeff adds. “There’s a fine line between confidence and cockiness, and ego has killed plenty of acts in this business.” Fortunately for us, The Stony Badgers were talking amongst themselves when Jeff offers his word of caution, because if it’s one thing they’re known for, it’s being egotistical.

“Any questions?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” Thomas answers. “When’s lunch?” Harry chuckles as Jeff replies,

“As soon as you guys get situated, we’ll order something to get delivered here. Anyone else got a question?” When no one replies, we get dismissed to go into our rehearsal room. As staff members are guiding bands to different rooms in the building, Sofia whispers to us,

“You don’t deserve to be here, and we will kick your ass.”

“And I’ll become Queen of England,” Ralph quips. Once we get in our assigned room and are left alone, we start laughing at Ralph’s comeback and roasting The Stony Badgers.

“Guys, let’s not get too carried away,” I tell my bandmates after a few minutes. “You heard what Jeff said. Besides, the more time we spend bashing them, the less time we’ll have to practice.”

“Okay, okay,” Puck replies. “You have a point. Let’s get set up, and then we can discuss what we’re going to perform this week.” Before we flew out to New York, the band decided that Puck, Ralph, and I would bring our guitars and Thomas would bring his drumsticks, but the rest of our equipment was going to stay home, since it was already provided for us. Los Angeles isn’t any different, as there’s already a drum set, amplifiers, and a microphone in the room. It doesn’t take Ralph and Puck very long for them to connect our guitars and tune them, and we’re soon sitting in the open space for a band meeting.

“So, we have to perform a song that we know like the back of our hand,” Puck restates. “Anyone have any thoughts?”

“How about Cherry Bomb?” Thomas asks. “We did win a talent show with that song, after all.”

“There’s just one problem, though,” I tell Thomas. “At least one of the judges has already seen us perform that song. I feel like we might get docked a few points for laziness if we perform Cherry Bomb again.”

“Well, what about another Fall Out Boy tune?” Ralph suggests. “The judges seemed to enjoy Puck performing Where Did the Party Go.” Puck shoots the idea down, and we spend the next several minutes struggling to come up with a song to practice.

“This is ridiculous,” I snap in frustration. “Surely, there has to be a song that we know that shows some versatility. We can’t perform the same pieces over and over again, or we’ll wind up sounding like The Stony Badgers: tired and boring.” Puck’s eyes light up as soon as the word “versatility” leaves my mouth, and Thomas asks him if he has an idea.

“Do you remember when we performed ‘My Sharona’ for a local competition?” Puck asks us in reply.

“By The Knack?” Ralph inquires. Puck nods his head.

“It was one of the few times you sung something old school,” Ralph recalls. “If I remember correctly, the judges of that competition told us that you had no business trying to sing a classic rock song. We got booed offstage.”

“I know it’s a risk, but it would show versatility,” Puck defends himself. “This is a different competition, and these judges haven’t seen us perform like that before.”

“I think it’s worth the risk,” Thomas responds. 

“I agree with Thomas,” I reply. “If we pull this off, we could have an edge that puts us above the other bands in our group.”

“So, are we all in?” Puck asks. Ralph sighs as he nods his head.

“This better be worth it,” he mutters. With that, we get off the floor and head over to our places. Just as we start playing, there’s a quick knock on the door. When I look up, I see a smiling Harry with a couple boxes of pizza.

“Hallelujah, food’s here!” Thomas exclaims. He rushes over to Harry and takes the boxes from his hands. 

“What are our options?” Thomas asks as he sets the boxes away from the equipment.

“The classic cheese and pepperoni,” Harry answers. “I wanted to check in on you guys and see how you were doing.”

“Well, the bad news is that it took us a while to agree on a song to perform,” I tell him, trying to ignore the floaty feeling in my stomach. “We were just getting ready to practice when you came in with food.”

“Well, mind if I hear a little bit of your song?” Harry asks.

“I don’t see why not,” Puck answers. Harry leans against the doorframe the exact same way as the silhouette did during yesterday’s auditions, and my heart starts beating faster as I realize that I was right: Harry was watching our audition. Luckily, Puck counts the beat before my thoughts spiral out of control, and I’m able to focus on playing. Things initially go smoothly as Thomas, Ralph, and I enter in at the right time, but then as soon as Puck finishes singing the first verse, Harry has us stop playing. Once he has our full attention, Harry tells us,

“There’s something missing. Ralph, is it?”

“Yes?” Ralph replies.

“How good’s your singing voice?” Ralph tenses up as he answers,

“It’s okay, I guess. Why?”

“I want you to try being Puck’s backing vocal,” Harry explains. “When Puck sings ‘time, Sharona,’ you sing along with him.”

“O-Okay,” Ralph stutters.

“It’s just a simple experiment,” Harry assures him. “Practice is for trying new things and seeing if they work or not. Now, Puck, I want you to start at ‘when’. Thomas, Tara, and Ralph, I don’t want you guys to come in quite yet because I need to be able to hear voices clearly. Everyone on board?” We tell Harry yes, and this time Harry’s the one counting in. For whatever reason, seeing Harry take charge like this is quite arousing to me. I wonder what would happen if he---

“Tara,” Harry says, making me jump slightly. This causes Thomas to start cackling.

“Is there something I’m missing here?” Harry asks once Thomas regains composure.

“No, there’s not,” I quickly answer. Harry raises an eyebrow but doesn’t verbally question my answer.

“Anyway, Ralph and Puck are able to harmonize fine, but it still doesn’t feel quite right to me, so I want you to come in when Ralph does. Got it, Tara?”

“Yes, sir,” I respond with a hint of sarcasm. The slight smirk forming on Harry’s face tells me that he picked up on it.

“Take it from where you started the last time,” Harry instructs. Puck sings, and Ralph and I join him at the right time. Harry doesn’t say anything to us for a moment, then he states,

“I’ll be right back. Feel free to eat some pizza while I’m gone.” Each of us gets through an entire slice by the time Harry returns with a couple of headsets with a microphone piece attached to them. He turns them on as he hands them to Ralph and me.

“Now, I want you guys to take it from the beginning, and I want you to incorporate what you just did into the song. Stop right after the first chorus.” We acknowledge his instruction, and Puck counts the beat for us to start over. This time, we’re able to perform without interruption, and Harry smiles brightly at us once we stop.

“That sounds a lot better,” he tells us. “Sometimes, you have to have backing vocals in order for the sound to be multi-dimensional. Puck, you have a decent voice, and you were able to hit the notes just fine, so I don’t want you to think that your voice is too weak for the song or anything like that. Ralph, you seemed nervous about singing at first, but you did just fine being one of Puck’s backing vocals. Hopefully, you gain more confidence as you continue practicing this week, because that will give you more energy. This isn’t supposed to be a super stressful week. Keep that in mind.” Harry wishes us goodbye and leaves us to our own devices. We each grab another slice of pizza and talk for a little bit.

“Were you caught up in one of your daydreams?” Thomas asks me. “Is that why you jumped when Harry said your name earlier?” I turn the headset off before I respond,

“Perhaps.” I feel my face start to warm up, and Ralph asks me what I was thinking.

“Well,” I hesitate. 

“Spit it out, Tara,” Puck tells me. “I think I know what it is, and it would be better for everyone if you told us.”

“I liked the way Harry took charge and directed us to do certain things,” I answer softly. “It was…”

“Sexy?” Thomas asks. I quietly nod my head, causing Puck to sigh.

“Well, as long as we’re telling secrets, Tara’s not the only one who’s attracted to one of the judges,” he responds.

“Is it Harry?” Ralph asks.

“No; it’s Louis.” Puck answers. He takes a deep breath before continuing,

“He’s the reason I know I’m bisexual. I jerked off to the sound of his voice when I was thirteen.”

“Wow,” Ralph murmurs quietly. I figured Puck was bi after our conversation yesterday and him coming out last night, but I never would have expected Puck to be attracted to a boy band member. Of course, Louis is the oldest and has always appeared the toughest, so it sort of makes sense.

“Well, we should probably get back to practicing,” Puck says. “We’ve already fallen a bit behind today, and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

As the week goes on, we find ourselves struggling to figure out what to do during the long instrumental solo in My Sharona. Originally, Puck just lets Ralph, Thomas, and me play, but after a couple times of him just standing there for nearly two minutes, we realize that’s not going to work and that Puck needs to do something. So, Puck tries to play along with Ralph as I launch into the main guitar solo. Their sound ends up overpowering mine to the point where I can barely be heard, so that puts us back to square one. We still don’t know how we’re performing the long solo when Wednesday afternoon rolls around, and it doesn’t help that cameras pop by periodically to record footage of us practicing. In desperation, Puck brings our practice to a halt by calling us in for yet another band meeting.

“Nothing’s sounding right,” Puck groans. “This solo is one of the biggest parts of the song. If we fuck it up, they might send us home.”

“Quit being such a drama queen,” Thomas teases. Ralph glares at him, then turns to Puck and says,

“I doubt that would happen. Considering our track record thus far, I think the worst-case scenario would involve us being safe. I’m sure there are bands that are facing bigger problems this week. We’re just having a minor issue.”

“Yeah, a minor issue on the main instrumental solo of the song!” Puck snaps.

“Puck, calm down,” I tell him. “This isn’t supposed to be a super stressful week. We’re supposed to be relaxed and maybe have a bit of fun.” As soon as I finish that sentence, an idea pops into my head.

“What if Ralph does his thing on the bass while Puck and I have a mini guitar solo competition?”

“Like, a serious one?” Ralph asks.

“No, silly,” I answer. “It’ll be looser. You know, fun and a little cheeky.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” Puck replies. “I mean, it would fit in with the general mood of our performance.” With that, the four of us get back into position.

“Let’s take it from the third verse,” Puck orders. Thomas counts the beat with his drumsticks, and we launch into the song. As he sings, Puck starts to loosen up; by the time Ralph, him, and I are singing the third chorus together, he’s become a ball of energy. So, when we launch into the main instrumental solo, Puck steps away from the microphone and turns his head towards me with a devilish look as he joins me on my part. I quickly match his energy, and soon we’re both grooving to the music and playfully trying to one-up each other. When the solo’s climax hits, Puck and I get so into our fake little competition that we’re bopping around only inches apart, intently looking at each other with mischievous grins on our faces. I have a blast the entire time, and I feel like Puck returns to the microphone too soon as the solo draws to a close. During the brief rest between the end of the solo and the final part of the song, a sharp whistle pierces the air. When I look up to see who made the noise, I briefly flinch in surprise.

“Jesus, Harold!” I exclaim once I’m no longer startled. “How long have you been there?”

“First, it’s Harry,” Harry replies as he’s laughing at me. “And I’ve been here for quite a while, actually.”

“Define a while.” Puck demands light-heartedly.

“Well, I was just making my rounds when I took a quick peek inside here and saw you guys huddled together instead of practicing for Friday,” Harry answers. “That made me concerned, so I initially wanted to ask what was going on and if you needed any help. Right when I was about to open my mouth, though, Tara suggested her idea, and you guys seemed on board with it. I was curious to see how it would play out, so I stuck around to watch.”

“And?” Ralph asks. Harry pokes his head out the room and looks to his left and right. Once he’s facing us again, he lowers his voice as he tells us,

“I think it’s a stroke of genius. I’m supposed to be impartial, but I think that you now have a high chance of being one of the top bands this week. You’re allowing yourselves to truly relax and have fun with the piece, especially Puck and Tara. There’s definitely some chemistry between you two, and it really came out as you guys were trying to outdo the other.” Puck and I glance at each other, and Puck shakes his head slightly as if to suggest,

We’ll talk about this later.

“Thank you, Harry,” I reply shyly. Harry’s eyes bounce between Puck and me a couple of times like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He then glances down the hallway quickly before giving us his attention again.

“Just a word of caution,” Harry warns in the same lowered tone of voice. “Please be careful.” At first, I have no idea what Harry’s talking about, but then Puck replies coldly,

“I’ve been through this once before. I’m not making the same mistake again, especially not while we’re on this show.” It’s at that moment that I realize that Harry’s trying to warn Puck and me about the nature of our relationship.

“I’m not saying don’t pursue something,” Harry tells Puck. “Just be careful, okay?” Puck nods his head.

“I should probably let you guys continue practicing,” Harry says at a more normal volume. “Remember, dress rehearsal at Ahmanson tomorrow. You guys will do great.”

“Thanks, Harry!” Ralph and Thomas exclaim as Harry walks away from our room. Puck lets out a sigh once we’re alone again.

“You okay?” I ask him.

“I’ll be fine,” Puck answers. “I just need some time to think, that’s all.”

This Friday goes a bit different than the other Fridays that we’ve had to perform for Rock Royale. Instead of having all the groups not playing or waiting backstage stand outside the auditorium, we’re told to sit at the back of the room quietly while people are doing their thing on stage. Also, the order of performances is determined by whose group the bands are in. So, Niall’s group goes first, followed by Liam’s, then Louis’s, and finally Harry’s. Currently, Pink World’s chilling backstage as Bella’s band, The Sparrows, set up their equipment so that they can play. As always, there are cameras everywhere.

“What do you think they’re gonna perform?” Thomas whispers to us.

“It’s hard to tell,” Puck quietly replies. “Their clothes have a really soft aesthetic, but something about them seems edgy.” Every single member of The Sparrows is wearing light pastels accented with white. For Bella, that means a white short-sleeved dress shirt, a mint green pleated skirt, mint green canvas shoes with white ruffled socks, and having her hair back with a mint green scrunchie. 

“Good afternoon, Sparrows!” Jeff announces, ending our conversation before we can talk about them any further. 

“Hi, Jeff,” Bella replies politely into the microphone. 

“What are you guys going to perform for us this week?” Dave asks.

“We’ll be playing ‘I Miss the Misery’ by Halestorm,” Bella answers.

“Isn’t Halestorm a heavy metal band?” Ralph whispers in surprise. “Does she even have the chops for that?” I shush Ralph, not wanting us to get in trouble for talking excessively while the cameras are rolling.

“I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s confused,” Carson tells Bella. “Your outfits severely clash with your song choice. Care to explain?”

“We wanted to bend stereotypes,” Bella answers. “We kept seeing people that perform heavy metal rely on leather jackets and combat boots to show how tough they are, and we wanted to show that you can just as easily have that persona while wearing more subdued clothing.”

“Well, I’m really excited to see how you guys perform this song,” Louis says to the band in his thick Doncaster accent. “You sounded very promising in practice.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jeff responds. There’s a brief silence, and then Bella’s band launches into the song. As soon as Bella sings,

“Oh, I miss the misery,” my mouth opens in shock. Right in front of my eyes, Bella transforms from a nice but meek girl to a hard, seductive rock goddess with attitude. I would have never expected her to even be into that kind of music, let alone actually have the voice for it. Within the first twenty seconds, Bella has my heart beating faster, and I can’t take my eyes off her. Once I’m over the initial shock of Bella singing a heavy metal song, I quickly realize that I’m getting turned on by Bella’s performance. Soon, I start daydreaming, and my mind spins out of control.

Bella and I bump into each other in a hallway. She quietly beckons me to follow. We end up right outside her room. She pulls me inside and shuts the door behind us. She pushes me against a wall and proceeds to kiss me roughly. We make out with each other, and she slowly starts to strip me as her lips move away from mine and start roaming all over my---

Wait, what the…?

No no no not this again why does it have to be her why can’t it be Puck or even Harry? What is so special about her that’s making me lose my---

“Tara,” Puck quietly calls out, snapping me out of my head. 

“Yeah?” I whisper.

“We’re about to go on,” he answers. “The judges are giving their final critiques. Are you alright?” I shake my head.

“You’re not the only one who has things to think about,” I quietly reply. Puck nods his head, immediately getting the point I’m trying to get across. At that moment, The Sparrows make their way backstage, and we quickly congratulate them as we take their place on stage.


	10. Harry

As I take my spot on the judges’ table and prepare myself to take notes on my bands’ performances today, Pink World get themselves set up on stage. Out of my five bands this week, I think Pink World stands above the rest. The Stony Badgers pretended to listen to me when I gave them advice on how to improve their performance, but then the minute I left them alone they would return to their way of doing things without attempting to implement my suggestions. A couple of the members even rolled their eyes at me while I was talking. I didn’t call them out, but I despise the level of disrespect that The Stony Badgers have shown me this week. There is so much ego between the four of them, and I honestly think it’s unjustified. On a good day, their sound gives off basic, unoriginal hippie vibes. If anyone should be that narcissistic, it’d be Pink World.

Except that they aren’t full of themselves. Ralph, Tara, and Puck are some of the humblest people that I have ever met, to the point that they don’t give themselves enough credit. Thomas can get a little cocky sometimes, but he’s able to put the attitude away when he needs to. While the other three bands in my group listened to what I told them and tried to execute my recommendations the best they could, Pink World’s been completely open to what I have to say and willing and able to follow my advice with complete ease. They’ve been so easy to work with this week, and that has been a breath of fresh air for me.

“Good afternoon, Pink World!” Jeff announces into the microphone in front of him. “How are you guys?”

“A little tired, but otherwise fine,” Tara replies. Each member is wearing a graphic tee, skinny jeans, and sneakers. It’s an alright look, I suppose, but I would like to get them into some different styles as the show progresses. Puck has his guitar slung behind him, and Ralph and Tara have their own microphone in front of them.

“What are you performing for us today?” Melissa asks. She’s worked with all the biggest names in the music industry to book appearances and secure tour dates.

“We’re covering ‘My Sharona’ by The Knack,” Puck answers. 

“And you’re singing?” Dave asks. “I thought this would be right up Tara’s alley, considering that she’s performed more retro songs.” Puck tenses up. Luckily, before Puck can say anything, Carson tells Dave,

“They’re showing versatility, which I think is commendable. It’s also a bit risky, considering this is your first actual week of competition.”

“I think they’re up to the task,” I speak up. “I’ve been working with them throughout this week, and they’ve been able to pick up on things quickly and execute them terrifically.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready,” Jeff says to Pink World. Thomas counts the beat in with his drumstick, and then he starts playing. Jeff starts jamming when Ralph and Tara come in, and everything goes smoothly. The minute Puck starts singing and Ralph and Tara harmonize with him, their performance really takes off. Jeff and Dave are easiest to please, but even Carson seems impressed when the three of them sing together. I feel myself getting a bit smug because I knew it would sound incredible. The song really brings out Puck’s flamboyant side, but it doesn’t overpower his bandmates. In fact, they’re able to match his energy. I was a little worried about Ralph because he seemed scared at practice about singing, but now he’s having a good time on stage.

The energy kicks up several notches when Pink World enters the big instrumental solo and Puck joins Tara on the main guitar part of it. I still think Tara’s idea of having a lighthearted solo competition with Puck was genius. Just like in practice, I’m able to see the chemistry between Puck and Tara as they bop around on stage, trying to playfully one-up each other. Unfortunately, this time I start feeling pings of jealousy, and my mind starts creating a scenario where I’m in Puck’s place.

Snap out of it. She’s your contestant. You cannot be feeling this way towards her.

When Pink World finishes the song, they receive a round of applause from all the judges and some of the bands in the back of the auditorium.

“That was incredible!” Jeff exclaims once the clapping dies down. “Once again, I’m blown away by your performance.”

“I agree with Jeff,” Dave replies. “I really wasn’t expecting Puck to have the chops to sing a classic rock song, but you proved me wrong when you started singing. The risk you guys took this week was definitely worth it.”

“My favorite part was you three harmonizing,” Melissa responds, gesturing to Puck, Tara, and Ralph. “How long did you take you guys to learn how to do that?”

“Ten minutes,” Tara and I accidentally respond at the same time. She instantly gets shy as she glances down at her feet and develops a faint blush.

“Sorry,” she faintly says into the microphone.

“It’s alright,” I tell her. 

“Only ten minutes?” Melissa asks, steering things back on course before they get awkward. “Wow. That’s truly amazing.”

“Carson? Harry?” Jeff adds. “Got anything you would like to add?”

“I liked how Puck and Tara really played into their chemistry during the main instrumental solo,” Carson answers. “I would caution the two of you against relying on it too much, but it worked just fine for this song.”

“Thank you,” Tara replies softly into her microphone.

“Alright, guys,” Jeff tells the seven of us. “Let’s talk about performances.” Jeff, Carson, Dave, Melissa, Niall, Liam, Louis, and I are currently sitting in the theater lobby to deliberate on who wins and who gets sent home. First, Liam, Louis, Niall, and I have to decide which of our bands had the best and worst performances, and our choice will determine the top and bottom four for this week.

“I’ll go first,” Niall volunteers. “I feel like Tumbleweed did the best out of the bands in my group. I don’t think I had anyone who did horribly. All of my bands sounded decent.”

“See, I felt like your bands started blending together after the first one, which happened to be Tumbleweed,” Carson replies. “I know they were performing different songs, but all of your bands sounded the same. There’s only so much country rock that I can take. So, I would suggest putting Chicken Wings in the bottom, since they were the last band to perform.”

“I hate to say it, Niall, but Carson’s right,” Melissa agrees. “After Tumbleweed, I felt like your bands were performing different versions of the same song. I don’t like that being the reason why Chicken Wings should be in the bottom, but it is what it is.”

“I feel like Chicken Wings should be in the bottom solely for their band name,” Louis roasts. “Chicken Wings sounds like something a bunch of hillbillies would come up with. It’s not a very impressive name, and I doubt it would sell with the general public very well.” Niall looks like he wants to start arguing with Louis. Thankfully, Jeff prevents that from happening by asking,

“So, Tumbleweed in the top, Chicken Wings in the bottom, and the other three safe? Does that sound good to everyone?” Everyone agrees, and we move on to Liam’s group.

“Ivory sounded really bland,” Carson says. “I mean, all of your bands sounded lackluster and didn’t really stand out to me, but Ivory was the most uninspiring band in the lot.”

“I agree,” Dave responds. “Liam, did any of your bands do okay in practice?”

“Well, The Messengers took to my suggestions the most,” Liam answers. 

“Is that good enough for them to be in the top, though?” Melissa asks.

“It’s going to have to be,” Jeff replies. “Louis, what about you?”

“The Sparrows should definitely be in the top,” Louis answers. “They smashed it at practice, and they killed it on stage.”

“Bella brought the right energy for the song,” Melissa adds. “She was an edgy kind of seductive, which really sold the song for me.”

“I would like to see them in different clothing,” Dave chimes in. “I get wanting to bend stereotypes, but I feel like they went too soft with their wardrobe. However, I do agree that The Sparrows performed the best out of your bands this week, Louis.”

“And the worst?” Jeff inquires.

“Honeybees,” I answer before Louis has the chance to open his mouth. “They were a train wreck on stage, to say the least.”

“They were fine in dress rehearsal,” Louis argues. “I don’t know how they went from that to what they delivered today in a span of 24 hours.” Throughout their performance, the singer and the guitarists were seconds away from starting a cat fight, the drummer kept dropping his drumsticks, and the keyboardist could barely be heard over all the screeching.

“If I had to guess, it was something personal that happened behind the scenes,” Carson tells Louis. “And they let it get in the way of their performance today.”

“Alright, then,” Jeff says as he makes a note on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard. “Harry, I think I know what you’re going to say, but would you mind telling the rest about your top and bottom bands?”

“Pink World’s my top band by leaps and bounds,” I answer. “And The Stony Badgers were deplorable.”

“I think The Stony Badgers sounded okay,” Dave disagrees. “I feel like Stripes was your weakest group this week.”

“Well, at least Stripes tried to follow my advice during practice,” I argue. “The Stony Badgers didn’t listen to anything I had to tell them, a couple of the members gave me attitude as I was talking, and they showed up   
at all but one practice reeking of pot.”

“They didn’t even listen to me,” Jeff speaks up. “And I was only wanting them to tweak a couple minor things in their performance.”

“So, you want to put The Stony Badgers in the bottom for unprofessional behavior during practice?” Carson asks me.

“We allowed Liam to put one of his bands in the top for how they performed during practice,” I answer, feeling defensive.

“Relax, Harry,” Carson replies. “I wasn’t disputing your decision. I was simply clarifying. In fact, I agree with you. If they want to make it far in this industry, The Stony Badgers need to act more mature.” I thought that Carson would argue with me more, so it’s a bit surprising that he’s agreeing with me this easily.

“To summarize, we have Tumbleweed, The Messengers, The Sparrows, and Pink World in the top, and Chicken Wings, Butterfly Baby, Honeybee, and The Stony Badgers in the bottom,” Jeff states. “If I’m being completely honest, I feel like the best and worst bands out of the bunch are in Louis and Harry’s group.”

“Definitely,” Melissa concurs. Louis and I glance at each other in nervous excitement.

“I still think Stripes should be in the bottom,” Dave mutters.

“Let’s start in the top,” Carson replies to Jeff, ignoring Dave’s complaint. “Who had the better performance: Pink World or The Sparrows?”

“Is that even a question?” Louis replies. “Pink World easily surpassed everyone else this week, including The Sparrows.”

“Thanks, Lou,” I mumble as everyone voices their agreement.

“Now, this question’s a little tricky: who gets sent home?” Jeff asks. “On one hand, we have a band who did terrible at practice; on the other hand, we have a group that fell apart on stage.”

“I feel like both are valid options,” Melissa responds.

“So do I,” Niall, Liam, and Dave agree.

“I think in order to answer the question fairly, we need to solely focus on their performance today,” Carson replies. “Even though The Stony Badgers appeared to have been highly unprofessional in practice this week, they sounded halfway decent on stage, which can’t be said about Honeybees.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but Carson does have a point,” Jeff tells me. “The Stony Badgers did do better than Honeybees today.”

“And that’s not even mentioning the drama that’s likely to ensue between Pink World and The Stony Badgers after this week,” I sigh, defeated. Jeff double checks to make sure that we’ve made our final decision, and then the eight of us leave the theater lobby and head back into the auditorium.


	11. Puck

I bolt upright in my bed at about 1 in the morning on Wednesday feeling extremely uneasy.

Something’s wrong, I think. The feeling persists as I grab one of the plastic cups on the TV stand and get myself some water from the bathroom sink, so once I return to the main part of the room, I decide to turn on the television and start looking for something to watch to distract myself with. Right when I find a channel playing Family Guy, there’s a quiet but rapid knock on my door. Curious, I mute the TV, walk over to the door, and peek through the peephole. I’m slightly surprised to see Louis on the other side. We’re on the same floor like we were in New York, but this situation seems out of the ordinary, and the anxious feeling from earlier starts returning. Louis knocks on the door again; not wanting to keep him waiting, I open it.

“Hey, Louis,” I answer, trying to ignore the emotional jolt in my stomach. “What’s up?”

“Harry wanted me to get you,” Louis croaks slightly. He currently has horrendous bed head, and he’s wearing a plain white tee and black Adidas sweats.

“Is everything okay?” I ask. Louis yawns before answering,

“He said something about Tara not feeling well, but I could barely keep my eyes open as he was describing specific details.” I knew something wasn’t right.

“Okay,” I whisper as I attempt to not freak out in front of Louis. “Let me grab something out of my suitcase real quick, and then I’ll join you.”

“That’s fine,” Louis mumbles. I close the door and go straight to my suitcase, where I rummage around until I find a bottle of codeine tablets. More times than not, whenever Tara’s not feeling well, it’s usually due to a migraine. She’s able to manage many of them with the tablets, but she tends to either forget to take them with her when she goes somewhere or misplace them and is unable to find them by the time she has to leave the house. So, as we were packing for LA, she trusted the bottle with me, knowing full well that I would remember to take them with me.  
Once I stick the bottle in the pocket of my sweatpants and turn the TV off, I join Louis outside. Before we start walking, Louis pulls out his phone.

“Harry texted me her room number,” Louis explains. I nod my head. Once he has the text up, the two of us walk to the elevator, get in it, and go down a couple floors. Louis’s phone goes to sleep while we’re in the elevator, so he has to pull up the text again when we’re on the floor Tara’s at. When we get to her bedroom door, Louis gently and quietly knocks on it. I faintly hear some crying, followed by Harry’s voice murmuring,

“It’s okay, Tara. It should just be Puck and Louis. I’m going to open the door wide enough to let myself out, but then I’ll quickly shut it behind me.” Several thoughts run through my head at once, causing me to physically and emotionally tense up as Harry joins Louis and me in the hallway.

“Thanks, Lou,” he softly tells him. “I’ll take it from here.” Louis nods his head and walks toward the elevator, leaving Harry and me alone. He’s trying to hide it, but Harry looks like he’s about five minutes away from passing out. Apparently, he hasn’t had time to change, because he’s still in the t-shirt and jeans he wore at Tuesday’s practice.

“Walk with me,” Harry instructs quietly. We find a mini lounge area in the hallway with a couple of chairs and sit down. I feel myself getting in a testier mood the longer I’m around Harry.

What the fuck was he doing in her room? I think angrily. He has no business being in there alone with her.

You need to calm down, my logic argues. Focus on helping Tara. The longer you sulk, the longer she continues feeling like shit.

Well, it’s kind of hard when Prince Charming over here was doing that exact thing before I showed up, I snarl. I should be the one taking care of Tara, not Harry.

Clearly, he needs your help, or he wouldn’t have asked for you, my logic replies. Whether you like it or not, Harry currently has both your personal future and the band’s future in his hands. If you act out towards him, he could very easily send you guys packing, no questions asked. It would be in your best interest to set your jealousy aside and cooperate with Harry.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks quietly. “I’ve been trying to tell you what’s happening with Tara, but I don’t think you’ve heard a single word I said.”

“Sorry,” I tell him. “I was just in my own head. I think I’m fine now.”

“Are you sure?” I nod my head. Harry’s eyes narrow slightly, which makes me a little nervous.

“What can you tell me about Tara and migraines?” Harry asks. As soon as ‘migraine’ leaves his lips, my nervousness shifts into anxiety.

“Well, they usually occur whether Tara’s really stressed, but she’s able to manage most of them with codeine.”

“Does she have some?” In response, I reach into my pocket, pull out the bottle of tablets, and hold it up for Harry to see.

“I see,” he says. “When hasn’t she been able to manage a migraine?”

“Junior year of high school,” I answer. “Just about everything in her life was stressing her out, and she developed a migraine so painful that she wasn’t able to leave her bed for an entire weekend. She was absolutely miserable.”

“Was she vomiting at any point?”

“Yeah. She also couldn’t be exposed to any light because it made the migraine much more painful.” Harry sighs.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” His response causes me to panic internally. “Did codeine help make her feel better?”

“When she was able to keep them down, sort of. It only dulled the pain slightly, but from what she’s told me, her head still felt like it was going to explode with the tablets in her system. Honestly, the only thing that helped was time.”

“So, how long will she be out for?” Harry asks.

“Well, if it’s like junior year, the migraine itself will last anywhere between 24 and 48 hours, but she’ll be very weak for a couple days after that.”

“So, we’re looking at a minimum of three days that Tara and consequently Pink World are out of commission.”

“I mean, once Tara’s over the migraine, she can push through and do what she has to do.”

“Pushing yourself is what got you in trouble the last time. Tara needs time to recover.”

“What about the show?” I ask Harry. 

“I’ll talk to Jeff when we get to the studio, and we’ll come up with something. I’ll let you know what we decide once I return from practice. For now, though, we need to focus on taking care of Tara.”

“Sounds like a plan, I guess. How are we getting in her room, though?” It’s Harry’s turn to reach into his pocket. Instead of pulling out a bottle as I did, he pulls out a room keycard. Her room keycard.

“I made sure to snag it on my way out,” Harry explains. “I don’t want to ask the front desk to unlock her door again.” We walk back to Tara’s room, and Harry slides the card into the slot on the handle so that he can unlock the door and open it. He initially cracks it just enough to poke his head in.

“Tara?” he calls out softly. Tara makes some type of noise in response from the bathroom.

“Puck’s here with me, just like you asked,” Harry tells her in the same tone.

Tara asked for me? I think to myself. This realization causes my heart to beat a little faster.

“M’kay,” Tara mumbles. “I wanna bucket.”

“Bucket?” Harry whispers to me in confusion.

“She wants something she can put by her bed,” I whisper back. “I don’t think she wants to be in the bathroom all night.”

“Got it,” Harry replies. He then says to Tara,

“I think I have something in my room. I’m going to let Puck in while I go look, okay?”

“Okay,” she murmurs. Harry opens the door wide enough for me to slide in before he quickly closes it behind me. Harry must have some experience with dealing with migraines; the room’s so dark that I can’t see a thing.

“Tara?” I ask her.

“Yeah?”

“How well can you shield your eyes?”

“Harry got me a blankie,” she answers. Tara really must not be feeling well, because she’s only spoken like that once before, and that was when she was extremely sleep deprived due to staying up for nearly 36 hours straight. For a brief second, my jealously flares up, then it dies down as I remind myself that I need to be the supportive best friend right now.

“Okay,” I say. “Hide under the blanket and close your eyes. I’m going to turn on a light so I can see.” I wait a few seconds before doing anything to give Tara time to wrap herself up.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she replies. I put my hand on the wall and feel around for a light switch. Once I find one, I flip it on and walk over to the bathroom, where Tara appears to be sitting cross-legged under a white blanket on the floor in front of the toilet. On the sink counter, I see a small empty cup. Perfect.

“Alright,” I say. “I brought the bottle of tablets, but in order for you to take them, you’ll need some water. So, I’m going to turn on the sink to fill the cup on the counter, take a couple tablets out of the bottle, and hand both the cup and the pills to you. Okay?” Tara hesitates a little before answering,

“Okay.” Once I have the cup filled and the codeine in my hand, I sit down next to Tara.

“This next part is going to suck, and I’m really sorry. However, in order to take your medicine, you’re going to have to unbundle yourself enough so that I don’t make a mess.”

“Shit,” Tara groans as she uncovers her face. She still has her eyes closed, but I can tell that the light’s getting to her, so I need to make this quick.

“Open,” I instruct. She opens her mouth, and I pop the tablets and pour some water into her mouth so that she can swallow them. Right after she gets everything down, I hear the door open. Seconds later, Harry’s standing outside the bathroom with an empty plastic ice cream tub, and Tara’s buried herself back under the blanket.

“Why’s the light on?” he asks.

“I needed to see so that I could give Tara her tablets,” I answer.

“Fair enough,” he responds. He then focuses his attention on Tara.

“I have a bucket,” he tells her softly. “Is there anything else you need?” Tara lurches forward a couple times, and I unwrap her from the blanket just in time for her to retch into the toilet bowl. As soon as she’s finished, she puts her back against the wall, snatches the blanket away from me, wraps herself up in it, and starts crying.

“It hurts so bad,” she sobs. I start rubbing her shoulder in comfort as Harry crouches down in front of her.

“I know, sweetie,” Harry replies in the same soft voice from before, causing me to become irritated at him again. “Here, why don’t we get you back in bed so that you can try to get some rest? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” Tara whispers. As Harry and I help Tara get off the floor and guide her towards her bed, I begin venting to myself.

Harry had no fucking right to call her ‘sweetie’, I internally yell. He’s only known her for a couple months, and now he’s giving Tara pet names like he’s her boyfriend or something. Unbelievable.

He didn’t mean it like that, the logical part of me responds. He’s trying to be comforting. Remember when Mom called you ‘sweetie’ whenever you were sick as a kid?

“Puck,” Harry quietly says. Tara’s completely under the sheets, and the bucket Harry brought is on the bedside table.

“Yeah?” I whisper.

“Follow me,” he replies. “I’m turning the light off on our way out.” Once we’re just outside Tara’s bedroom door, Harry pulls his phone out of the other pocket of his jeans and groans.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“It’s nearly a quarter to three, and I’ve not gotten any sleep,” he answers.

“Go to bed, then,” I suggest. “You look exhausted.”

“I have to be up at five, so there really isn’t any point.”

“Why did you want me out here?” Harry looks at me in silence for a moment.

“What’s going on?” he finally asks sternly.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve looked disconnected and a little pissed off since Louis brought you up here, and I want to know what’s bothering you.” This is just as bad as Louis pressing me to tell him who made me bisexual, if not worse; I don’t have to interact with Louis on a daily basis. Harry, on the other hand, is the band’s mentor. I have to maintain a civil, professional relationship with him at the very least, or it’s back to Ohio for the four of us.

“I’m waiting,” Harry states coldly after several seconds of silence. “We can stand out here for the next few hours if that’s what it’s going to take for you to open your mouth, but I want an answer.”

“I…” How do I go about saying this without putting Pink World’s spot in the competition in jeopardy?

“Well, spit it out, Puck. You what?”

“I really…like…Tara. Like, a lot.”

“Go on.” I take a deep breath before continuing.

“Seeing and hearing you interact with her the way you do has got me feeling a bit jealous.” Harry looks amused by this statement, and part of me wants to punch the smirk off his face. Instead, I tell him,

“I’m sorry. I know this is silly.”

“Perhaps,” he replies. “Then again, perhaps not.”

“What do you mean by that?” His facial expression goes neutral.

“There’s a spare bed in there,” he responds, avoiding my question entirely. Totally not suspicious or anything. “Technically, people aren’t supposed to share rooms, but I think you need to stay with Tara, at least until she feels better.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“Keep an eye on you. I know that you probably wouldn’t do anything, but I don’t want you to get in trouble. I’ll get Thomas and Ralph to join you guys before I leave in a few hours.”

“How kind,” I reply sarcastically.

“I mean, I really don’t think Jeff would have a problem with you taking care of Tara while she’s ill, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Well, should we head back in?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies. “And Puck?”

“Yes?”

“I like to keep some things in my life private.” Before I can get him to clarify what he means by that statement, he sticks the room key in the slot and opens the door, so I have no choice but to follow him inside.


	12. Tara

Tuesday, 11:58 PM

Images of giant drills are seared in my brain when my eyes fly open from an otherwise pleasant dream. Immediately, I regret not keeping them closed, for as soon as I can see some of the city lights peeking through the curtain, my head explodes in pain.

“Oww,” I nearly sob. The back of my head feels like someone’s taking an ice pick and hammering it into my skull, and the pain radiates from that point to the rest of my head. I consider burying myself under the covers and waiting for my migraine to go away, but my stomach has other plans.

“Oh, shit,” I repeat to myself as I throw the covers off me and sprint into the bathroom. There’s just enough light coming in that I can see the outline of the toilet, and I make it in the nick of time. I throw up a couple times, and then I start bawling my eyes out. It’s making the pain that much worse for me, but for some reason I can’t seem to stop. Somehow, I’m able to hear loud, rapid knocking in the midst of my pounding head and my obnoxious crying.

“Tara? Is everything okay in there?” How wonderful. As if I wasn’t already feeling like shit, now Harry’s apparently heard me. He’s the last person that I want to see me in this state; it’s embarrassing and frankly cringy.

“Tara, do you think you can let me in?” Harry asks. Despite my emotions, I know that I need to let him in for the simple reason that as a judge and mentor he has to make sure that I’m well enough to compete. But, once again, my stomach thwarts my plans and I wind up vomiting.

“Sit tight, Tara,” Harry responds. “I’ll get someone to unlock the door.” Great. Just great. He’s going to see me hunched over the porcelain throne, puking my brains out and sobbing uncontrollably. Not cute in the slightest. As I wait for the inevitable to happen, I bounce between those two activities for several minutes.

“Thank you,” I hear Harry’s voice tell someone all of a sudden. “Again, I apologize for disturbing you this late. I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t an emergency.” There’s some faint murmuring, and then a brief silence.

“Tara?” Harry calls out. My crying quickly directs him to the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him standing in the doorframe.

“Hey, sweetie,” he says very softly. “What’s wrong?” In any other circumstance, I would be freaking out about Harry calling me ‘sweetie’. However, in this moment, all I can focus on is my hammering head.

“M-m-mi…” I blubber.

“Migraine?” Harry asks in the same soft, comforting tone of voice. I think this is the gentlest I’ve ever heard him speak.

“Uh-uh,” I mumble, unable to form more articulate thoughts in my head. This can only mean one thing, and as much as I don’t want to act this way around Harry, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it from happening.

“You poor thing,” he murmurs. “What do you need me to do?”

“Blankie,” I quietly blurt out. I fucking knew it. The last time I spoke like this, I was pushing 36 hours without sleep due to Pink World traveling to Cleveland for an all-day competition on a Sunday and having to go to school the next day. I couldn’t even participate in any class discussions due to me sounding like a toddler every time I opened my mouth.

“I think I have something in my room. Do you want me to get it for you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Alright, Tara. I’ll be right back.” Harry steps away from the doorway, but then he stops as though he’s forgotten something. He then pokes his head in the bathroom and asks,

“Would you mind if I borrow your room key? I don’t want to disturb the front desk again.”

“No,” I whisper. “Bedside table.” The fact that this is the most eloquent I’ve been with Harry this evening is honestly pathetic.

“Thanks.” He walks to the main part of the room. He takes longer to leave than I expect, which confuses me for a brief moment. Then, I notice that the room’s getting darker, and I realize that Harry must be attempting to block light from entering my room. How kind of him. He peeks into the bathroom momentarily to tell me that he’s heading out before leaving me alone. I end up retching once more while I’m waiting for him to return. I’m so wrapped up in my migraine that I don’t register Harry coming back until he instructs me to close my eyes. Even with my eyes closed, I can still see a bright light wash over the bathroom briefly before quickly disappearing.

“Here,” Harry murmurs. “Sit up.” Once I’m not bent over the toilet, Harry wraps me up in one of the softest blankets I’ve ever felt in my life. Where did he get something so soft?

“There,” he replies. “Now, you have a nice, fluffy blanket. Anything else you need?”

“Puckie,” I mumble. Harry might be the one helping me at the moment, but Puck’s the one with the codeine tablets. Plus, I really need Puck’s support right now. He’s been through this with me before, so he’ll know exactly what to do.

“Pukie?” Harry asks, confused.

“Puckie,” I repeat slightly louder.

“I can’t understand what you’re saying, Tara.”

“Puck,” I quietly groan. “I need Puck.” Finally, I can form a complete sentence.

“Okay,” Harry replies. “I think I know where he is. Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?”

“No.” Harry leaves the bathroom again, and I close my eyes and hide under the blanket further. I try to listen to his phone call, but he’s talking so quietly that I can’t hear a word he’s saying. After a while, I hear Harry step back into the bathroom.

“Louis’s going to get Puck and bring him down here,” he tells me. “Is there anything else you need?”

“I’m sorry,” I let slip. Harry doesn’t respond for a few seconds, and I start to wonder why when suddenly I feel Harry’s arm wrap itself around me and bring me closer to him.

“Why are you sorry?” he asks quietly. I feel tears start leaving my eyes again. The waterworks truly need to stop; they’re extremely annoying.

“Because I’m an emotional mess and I’m talking like I’m five years old and I feel like I disturbed you from much needed sleep and forcing you to baby me and annoying you with my stupid migraine yet again and---”

“Ssh,” Harry quietly interrupts. He starts rubbing his hand up and down my arm as he continues,

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for having a migraine, darling. It’s okay to cry about it; migraines are hellishly painful sometimes. I don’t mind taking care of you. That’s part of my job as your mentor and judge. And you did not disturb me in the slightest. In fact, I was just heading back to my room after having a rather long conversation with Jeff, so I wasn’t even close to being asleep.”

“But you need to get some rest.” I’m close to straight up bawling again.

“Not until we get this under control.” The concern in his voice causes me to lose it; I start sobbing uncontrollably.

“Tara, it’ll be okay,” Harry whispers. “I promise.” He tries his hardest to console me, but by the time there’s a knock on the door, I’m still feeling absolutely terrible. Harry unwraps his arm from me and pecks me on the cheek before standing up.

“It’s okay, Tara,” Harry tells me as he’s walking towards the door. “It should just be Puck and Louis. I’m going to open the door wide enough to let myself out, but then I’ll quickly shut it behind me.”

Wednesday, 7:12 PM

I’ve spent basically the entire day doing four things: sleeping, vomiting, listening to my bandmates’ conversations, and popping a couple codeine tablets in my mouth every four hours. Harry and Puck stayed with me for most of the night, and then Harry went and fetched Thomas and Ralph around six this morning so that they could help Puck take care of me while Harry was at practice. According to Puck, Harry’s supposed to stop back by after practice to tell us what he and Jeff discussed regarding us practicing and performing this week. We’re supposed to perform one of two songs for our two-week long 70s challenge on Friday, but I doubt that’s going to happen. That is, unless I magically become all better in the morning.

“You guys wanna play some charades?” Thomas asks. He’s been the most bored among us today, so much so that he turned on the TV as soon as Harry left. Thankfully, he put it on mute and pulled up closed captioning, but unfortunately I can’t even glance at the screen without my head and consequently my stomach reacting negatively to the light.

“For the last time, Thomas, no one wants to play charades,” Ralph snaps. He’s been incredibly snippy all day, particularly with Thomas.

“Ralph, Thomas, don’t start arguing,” Puck mumbles. “You’ll make her head hurt more than it already does.” Puck’s been on the brink of passing out since about three, but he refuses to rest, despite all three of us doing everything short of pleading with him to do so. I feel really bad for him. I know he’s extremely worried about me, kinda like how I was worried about him when he passed out in New York, and that’s what’s keeping him awake.

“I wonder what’s taking Harry so long,” Ralph says, changing the subject. “Even with traffic, I thought he would have been back by now.” As if on cue, someone knocks on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Puck responds, yawning as he hops off the spare bed and walks to the door. He peeks through the peephole and tells us,

“It’s him. He’s holding bags for some reason.” Puck then opens the door, and Harry walks in and closes the door behind him.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says to the four of us. “I figured you guys would want something to eat, so I stopped through Subway.”

“I’m famished!” Thomas exclaims. As Harry’s passing out subs to everyone, he explains,

“I wasn’t completely sure of what you would like from there, so I tried to do the best I can. Hopefully, everyone likes what I got them.”

“I hope you didn’t get mobbed,” I reply, causing four pairs of eyes to suddenly focus on me.

“Well, well, well,” Ralph lightly teases, a smirk forming on his face. “She finally speaks.”

“Give me a break!” I quietly whine.

“To answer your question, no,” Harry answers gently. “I mean, a couple people wanted autographs, and I’m pretty sure someone tried to take a sneaky picture of me, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Now, I---” Harry gets interrupted by me puking into the ice cream bucket.

“Thomas, I believe it’s your turn,” Puck tells him once I’ve finished. Ralph, Puck, and Thomas have been taking turns dumping the contents of the bucket into the toilet and cleaning it thoroughly.

“Have you been able to keep anything down today?” Harry asks me while Thomas is in the bathroom. Before I can open my mouth, Puck answers tiredly,

“Only a bagel. She tried to be ambitious at lunch, but that didn’t go too well.”

“Have you gotten any sleep, Puck?

“No, he hasn’t,” Ralph answers. “We’ve all tried to persuade him to get some rest, even if it was a short nap, but he’s insisted that he needed to be up.” Thomas returns to our group and silently gives the bucket back to me before resuming his spot on my bed. Meanwhile, Harry sticks what I assume to be the sub he got for me into the mini fridge.

“Now,” he says, “I---” Once again, he gets interrupted, this time by a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Puck responds. This time, he’s stopped by Harry.

“You stay put,” he quietly demands. He walks to the door and opens it. 

“Can I help you?” he asks sternly. Whoever’s on the other side of the door must be really shocked to see Harry, for the next thing I hear is a high-pitched squeal.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter to myself as I bundle myself under the blanket that Harry brought for me last night.

“I honestly have no idea what that was about,” Harry mumbles returning to the four of us after he closes the door. “A member of one of Liam’s bands stopped by for some reason. She scurried away pretty quickly, so I don’t know what she wanted.”

“Was she blonde by any chance?” Puck asks.

“Yeah,” Harry answers. “Kind of looked like…” He trails off into a momentary silence.

“Harry?” Thomas asks. “Are you okay?” I peek out from under the blanket to see Harry looking rather pissed off.

“That was the girl that called Tara a bitch,” Harry replies really deeply, appearing as though he’s restraining himself from completely blowing up in anger. 

“Emily,” Puck contributes.

“That’s right,” Harry responds in the same tone of voice. He takes a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, then he tells us,

“I talked to Jeff at practice today. He feels sorry that Tara isn’t feeling well at the moment, and he wants to make sure that you guys still have an equal opportunity to compete. So---” Harry gets interrupted for the third time by another knock on the door.

“This better be important,” he nearly growls as he stomps over to the door and throws it open.

“What do you want?” he asks in a snippy manner. I hear Bella say something back, but I can’t make out the words. I can’t believe she’s potentially come to check up on me.

“I’m trying to conduct a meeting with Pink World, so this isn’t the best time for you to see her,” Harry responds, forcing me to focus back on reality. “However, I appreciate your concern, and I’ll pass it along to her.”

“Okay,” Bella replies. “I understand. Thanks anyway, Harry.” Harry closes the door and returns to the band.

“Bella hopes that you get better soon, Tara,” Harry tells me. “She might swing back through here later so that she can see you.” He glances over at Puck, and when I turn to look, Puck appears to be just as pissed off by Harry’s words as he was when Harry massaged my shoulders in New York.

“Anyway,” Harry states, “tomorrow you guys will be practicing in Jeff’s room, since it’s among the bigger rooms in the hotel, so we’ll be able to fit equipment in there with no problems. Practice will start at nine and end at six per the hotel’s instructions. I will stay behind to help you guys, since Jeff’s required to be at the theatre. We’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen on Friday because some of it will depend on how Tara’s feeling, but if you’re not able to perform on Friday, you’ll be practicing in Jeff’s room alone, and you’ll just do both pieces next week. Jeff’s talked to the other judges, so they’re aware of your situation. Any questions?” When none of us responds, Harry adds,

“That’s pretty much all I got. I’m sorry that this meeting stretched longer than what I anticipated. Thomas, Ralph, it’s getting close to curfew, so you guys should probably head back to your rooms. Puck, if I can have a word with you outside, please.” The contestants have to be in their rooms by eight, and lights are supposed to be off at nine.

“Seriously?” Puck mutters under his breath as he gets off the spare bed and joins Ralph, Thomas, and Harry as they’re walking towards the door.

“Drop the attitude,” Harry tells Puck as he opens the door and lets everyone out. Once he closes it, sweet, blissful silence permeates the room. I hide under the blanket, lean back against the pillows, and close my eyes, appreciating just how quiet the room is. Unfortunately, this only lasts for about five minutes before the door opens and Puck and Harry return inside.

“I need to stay up,” Puck argues. “I need to take care of Tara.” He seems to be in the middle of a dispute with Harry.

“And if these were different circumstances, I would allow you to do so,” Harry replies. “But part of my job is to ensure that all of the members of my bands are fit to compete, and I cannot have you fainting again from exhaustion. So, get in the bed and go to sleep.”

“What about T---” 

“I’ll take care of her. Now, for the last time, get in the bed, or I’ll put you there myself.” I peek out from under the blanket to see Harry and Puck staring each other down like they’re in the Wild West about to duke it out. Then, Puck sighs.

“Fine,” he mumbles as he slides into the spare bed. “Pills are on the TV stand. Her last dose was around four, so she’ll be due soon.”

“Thank you,” Harry replies exasperatedly. Once Puck’s under the covers and has his eyes close, Harry grabs the remote off the night stand and turns the TV off, making the room grow darker. I forgot that was still on.

“Come on,” Harry beckons quietly to me. “You need to take your medicine.” The two of us head into the bathroom, where Harry turns on the faucet to fill a cup with water. He then opens the bottle and pours out two tablets in his left hand.

“Hold out your hand,” he instructs. He proceeds to transfer the tablets to my hand, and I pop them in my mouth. Once Harry gives me the cup, I take a swig of water and swallow the pills.

“Now, how hungry are you?” Harry asks.

“I’m starving,” I tell him.

“You up for eating a bit of your sub?”

“That sounds terrific,” I reply. Harry walks us back to my bed, and he goes into the mini fridge to grab my sub. He then goes over to the bed and sits on it so that his feet are spread apart at the foot of the bed and his head is resting on the headboard.

“Sit,” he insists, patting the unoccupied part of the bed.

“Harry, I’m not too sure about this,” I tell him.

“I’m not going to do anything inappropriate to you,” Harry persuades. “I’m just going to help relieve your migraine a bit, that’s all.” Still a little uneasy, I cautiously seat myself in front of Harry. He silently hands me my sandwich, and I unwrap the sub just enough for me to take a bite from it. As I chew, Harry starts rubbing my temples, causing me to moan quietly with my mouth closed. He’s applying just the right amount of pressure, and it’s already starting to soothe my migraine.

“Everything alright?” Harry asks.

“Hmm-mm,” I reply, still chewing. Once I swallow, I elaborate,

“What you’re doing feels really nice. Please keep going.” Harry quietly chuckles.

“I will, darling,” he responds. “Just let me know when you’re done eating. You don’t have to eat the entire sub if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Okay.” It’s a six-inch sub, which is normally something that I can eat in one sitting. However, I feel my stomach start to churn once I’ve eaten about half the sandwich.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I think I’m done.”

“Okay.” Harry takes the sub and its wrapper away from me and gets up off the bed to put the sandwich back in the mini fridge. Just as he’s about to get back on the bed to resume rubbing my temples, someone knocks on the door.

“I wonder who that might be,” Harry mutters as he heads towards the door. When he opens it, he stands in the doorway in silence.

“Bella wants to give Tara something,” I hear Louis tell Harry. “Obviously, I didn’t want her wandering the hotel by herself, but she’s been really worried about Tara. She wasn’t able to focus that well at practice today because of it.”

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“It’s a teddy bear that I brought from home,” Bella answers. “I figured Tara might like to have it to help her feel better.”

“Set it on the bed,” Harry instructs. He moves out of the way so that Bella can enter the room.

“Hi, Tara,” she says when she sees me. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” The bear kinda matches the blanket; they’re both white and fluffy. Once Tara sets the bear next to me, she leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

“Get better soon,” she whispers before heading back out. Once she and Louis are gone, Harry closes the door and walks back over to me.

“That’s a nice bear,” Puck mumbles.

“Robert…” Harry warns. How does he know Puck’s actual name?

“I’m trying,” Puck replies. “It’s just that the noise disturbed me a little.” Harry ignores him and instead focuses his attention back on me. He seems a bit moody all of the sudden, and I’m not sure why.

“Do you want me to go back to rubbing your temples?” Harry asks. His tone matches his apparent moodiness, for he sounds melancholy.

“Sure,” I answer. When he’s situated on my head and picks up where he left off, I ask him,

“Are you okay? You seem sad.”

“Not sad, darling,” Harry replies. He takes a moment before adding,

“I’m going to repeat something that I’ve told you before: please be careful.”

“With Bella, you mean?”

“Yeah. I’m not saying don’t pursue something with her; just be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” I don’t say anything in response, and for a while the room’s completely silent. Eventually, I feel my eyes start to grow heavy, and it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake.

“Tara?” Harry whispers.

“’M sleepy,” I mumble. Apparently, I’m tired enough for my mental filter to stop working, because the next thing to leave my mouth is,

“You’d make a nice pillow.” I know, I know, it’s cliché to want to fall asleep in someone’s arms, but I feel just crappy enough that I don’t care how sappy I sound. This seems to stun Harry enough to make him stop rubbing my temples, and he doesn’t say anything for a couple moments.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I don’t know why I said that.” Harry gets off the bed without acknowledging the fact that I spoke. I hope I didn’t upset him.

“Get off the bed and grab the bear and blanket,” he abruptly instructs. Once I’m not on the bed, Harry walks over to the left side of the bed, reaches down to the top corner of the sheets, and starts tugging at it. 

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Undoing part of the bed,” he answers. Eventually, he’s undone the sheets on the left side of the bed, and he walks over to the other side and pulls the sheets towards him. Once he’s done, he tells me to hand me the blanket and get on the bed, and I realize what Harry’s trying to do. As I’m cuddling the bear, Harry uses the blanket and hotel sheets to tuck me in. Then, he bends over me and whispers,

“Goodnight, Tara. Have sweet dreams. I’m sorry that I can’t cuddle you.” He plants a soft kiss on my forehead, which is the last thing I remember as I drop off.


	13. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of abuse, Niall slander

“Come on, pick up,” I whisper as I hear the phone ring on the other end. I’m currently in Jeff’s room, waiting on Pink World to show up for practice.

“Hello?” Liam asks. I figured that while I waited, I’d give Liam a call. I really need someone to talk to about last night, and despite his tendency to treat me like a kid sometimes, Liam’s always been the one person in the band I can go to whenever I need to get advice and to just talk about anything. Niall tunes out when it’s not about sports, food, booze, or women; Louis allows his emotions to cloud his judgement and affect his advice; and when he was in the band, Zayn only wanted to talk to me seriously when he was high and I was either drunk or high right alongside him.

“Hey, Liam,” I reply. “Listen, I need to get something off my chest. Is there any way that we could maybe grab a bite to eat after practice and just chat?”

“Sure, Haz,” Liam answers. “Unfortunately, Niall’s been bugging me to go out with him for drinks, and I promised him a few days ago that I would do it this evening, so he’ll be tagging along with us. I promise you that I’ll remain sober for as long as you need me to.”

“I know. But he won’t. You know how Niall gets when he’s drunk. I don’t want him bellowing out my issue for the whole bar to hear.”

“How about this: I’ll tell Niall that I’ll meet him at the bar area, and you and I can grab a booth towards the back of the restaurant. That way, Niall can do his own thing, I can have my full attention on you, and you don’t have to worry about Niall blabbing loudly about anything you say.”

“Would you be willing to do that for me?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course!” Liam replies at the same time that I hear a knock on the door. “That’s what friends are for, Haz.”

“Thanks, Liam.” I walk to the door to answer it as I add,

“Listen, I think Pink World just got here, so I have to go. I really appreciate you doing this for me, Liam.”

“No problem,” he responds. “Take care, and I’ll see you this evening.”

“Sounds good.” Liam ends the call, and I stick my phone in one of the pockets of my jeans as I answer the door.

“Good morning,” Puck tells me as he and his bandmates head inside. He, Ralph, and Tara have their guitars with them, and Thomas has his drumsticks. Earlier, I helped Jeff bring up a drum set, a microphone with a stand, and a few amplifiers to his room, and they’re currently set up in the middle of the room. Now, Pink World is hooking up their equipment and making sure everything is tuned.

“Alright,” I state once the band is done prepping for practice. “So, here’s the deal: before he left to head over to the theatre, Jeff wanted to know if you were ready to perform your first song tomorrow. I told him that I didn’t think you were but that I wanted to check in with you first before we made a final decision. How are you guys feeling?” 

“Well, as far as the song goes, we were in a pretty solid place with it before Tara had the migraine, so depending on how well we do in practice, I can see us performing tomorrow,” Thomas answers. For the first half of the 70s challenge, the remaining bands were assigned one of the following bands: Led Zeppelin, Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd, and The Rolling Stones. Then, the bands in the competition would have to choose one song from the 70s from the band that they were assigned. I paired Pink World with Led Zeppelin, and they’ve chosen to cover “Immigrant Song”.

“Thank you, Thomas,” I reply. “Does everyone else agree with that statement?”

“To a certain extent, yes,” Ralph responds. “However, as Thomas briefly mentioned, Tara does have a migraine, so the ultimate decision rests on her shoulders. If she’s not up to perform, then we’re not performing, plain and simple.”

“Puck?”

“I agree with Ralph,” Puck replies. “Tara needs to make the final call.”

“Okay, then. Tara, do you think you’ll be up to perform tomorrow?” She hesitates to answer.

“Don’t worry about upsetting anyone,” I tell her. “Just answer the question honestly.”

“No,” she mumbles.

“Is that a, ‘no, you won’t answer the question honestly’, or ‘no, you don’t think you’ll be up to perform tomorrow’?”

“I don’t think I’ll be well enough to perform tomorrow. While the migraine is almost gone, I have practically no energy. Puck had to drag me out of bed this morning, I’m that exhausted. And if this plays out like it did the last time, I’ll probably still be feeling pretty weak tomorrow.”

“Jeff and I kinda figured as much, but we just wanted to make sure. Now, have you guys eaten anything? Jeff went to the store and purchased some breakfast food on the off chance you weren’t able to eat something before having to come up here.”

“I got up pretty early, so I was able to go to the breakfast bar,” Ralph answers. “Thomas came and wolfed down some scrambled eggs right when I was finishing up, but knowing him he’s still hungry.” 

“Actually, I’m pretty full,” Thomas states. “I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment. Nerves, you know.” Interesting.

“Well, neither Tara nor I were able to get any breakfast,” Puck replies. “So, what’s available?”

“Let me take a look.” I walk over to Jeff’s not-so-mini fridge and open the door. 

“There’s a couple ready-made breakfast sandwiches, some yogurt, and some fruit,” I list out.

“I’ll take a sandwich,” Puck responds.

“Care what kind?”

“As long as there’s no avocado, I’m good,” he answers. I grab a ham, egg, and cheese one and gently toss it to him.

“Tara, what about you?” I ask.

“For some reason, a bowl of strawberries and blueberries sounds really good to me,” she answers.

“Ooh, fancy!” Thomas teases.

“I would smack you on the shoulder, but I’m afraid that if I do so, I’ll wind up fainting,” Tara tells him.

“That’s okay, Tara,” Ralph responds. “I’ll smack him for you.” I have the strawberries and blueberries in my hand, and I shut the door right when Ralph playfully smacks Thomas on the shoulder. Thomas quickly retaliates in the same playful attitude. Most intriguing. I set the fruit down on the counter, grab a couple of clean bowls and plastic forks, and pour the strawberries and blueberries and mix them together. What can I say? Tara’s made strawberries and blueberries sound good to me, too. Once I’m done with that, I join the band on the floor and hand Tara her bowl.

“Thanks,” she whispers. I nod my head in acknowledgement. I take a couple bites before asking the band,

“Have you guys figured out your second song yet?”

“Not exactly,” Ralph answers. “We’ve gone back and forth between a couple of different songs, but we haven’t reached a definitive decision when we left practice Tuesday, and we haven’t really talked about it since.”

“Well, what did you guys have in mind?” I ask them.

“There is this one song on the list that I know the words to,” Puck nervously answers. “It’s something that I’ve wanted to perform ever since I first listened to it. Before Tara was a part of the band, I suggested this song a few times, but I would always get rejected, and it would escalate into a yelling match. I’ve been scared to suggest it since.”

“Then again, Sofia rejected just about everything you suggested when she was around,” Ralph replies.

“Hold on a second,” I interject. “Is this Sofia---”

“Yes,” Puck interrupts. “Sofia started off as a member of Pink World before being the lead singer in The Stony Badgers. She’s also my rather abusive ex-girlfriend.” That explains why Puck’s seemed so hesitant to do anything with Tara.

“Well, Sofia’s not in this room, so what’s the name of the song?” I ask.

“‘Doctor Doctor’ by UFO,” Thomas answers. “I have a general idea about how it goes due to it being played a few times when I was in the room.” He quickly glances over at Ralph as he finishes talking before looking away just as fast. He thinks he’s being all sneaky, but I know exactly what he’s doing because I’ve done that exact same thing before for probably the same reasons he’s doing it.

“I also know the song pretty well,” Ralph responds. “It’s become one of my favorites.” He’s a little less obvious when he does it, but he essentially does the same thing to Thomas that Thomas did to him. I think they’re feeling some type of way towards each other and that Puck and Tara are completely oblivious to it.

“What about you, Tara?” I ask her.

“I don’t think I’ve heard the song before,” she answers.

“Here’s what we’ll do then: I’ll pull up the song on my phone and play it as we finish eating, then we’ll run through ‘Immigrant Song’ once before jumping into ‘Doctor Doctor’. Sound good?”

After Liam and Niall return from practice and change into clothes more suitable for going out, the three of us head out to Beelman’s Pub, which is about ten minutes away from our hotel. There are a few clothing stores surrounding the pub, and there’s a Pizza Hut a little bit down the street. As promised, Liam gets Niall distracted at the bar before joining me in a booth towards the back of the establishment. Niall’s wearing a simple black t-shirt, dark blue skinny jeans, and all-black Vans shoes, while Liam’s gone a little classier and more well-fitting with a light blue polo shirt, khakis, and tan boat shoes. Liam takes a little longer than I expected, but as soon as he sits down, he explains,

“The bartender recognized me. Apparently, his niece and nephew are both fans. I told him that I was wanting some privacy, and he said that he’d try to see what he can do. Hopefully, the only person that will be approaching us this evening will be one of the servers.”

“I don’t know if that’s going to be entirely realistic, but I appreciate the gesture, Liam,” I reply. “So, how have you been? We haven’t exactly had the chance to sit down and catch up one-on-one.” I figure we could start with some small talk before I hit him with the serious stuff.

“I’ve been good,” Liam answers. “I’ve done a few gigs here and there, released some songs, nothing too crazy. It’s definitely been a change of pace from doing an album and a tour every year like we used to. You, on the other hand, have been quite busy from what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I finished a tour several months ago, and Jeff’s gotten me some modeling gigs with Gucci, but I’ve also been able to spend more time with my family.”

“How’s your mum and sister? Are they doing good?” Our conversation gets interrupted briefly as a server comes up to our table and takes our food order after we decline getting drinks. Liam gets an Impossible Burger, while I opt for a Buddha Bowl.

“Yeah, my mum and sister are doing fine,” I respond to Liam’s earlier questions when the server leaves. “Gemma released sunglasses around September last year, and she had a steady boyfriend last I heard. How about your family?”

“They’re fine, yeah. I haven’t been able to visit them as much as I would like, but I call home about once a month.”

“That’s cool. How are you feeling about the show so far?” I ask. “Your bands doing good?”

“The show’s alright. None of my bands are particularly standing out yet, but it’s early days yet. Who knows? That may change as the competition goes on.” Liam lowers his voice as he adds,

“Although, I did overhear something disturbing at practice today. Even if you hadn’t called me, I probably would have wanted to talk to you when I got back this afternoon, because it concerns one of your bands.”

“Oh?” My stomach begins churning. This can’t be good. The server comes back to drop off our food, so I have to wait in slight panic until she leaves. Once we’ve each taken a bite of our food and swallowed, Liam asks,

“Did someone from one of my bands happen to swing by to your room by any chance?”

“It wasn’t my room, but Emily did pop her head in,” I answer.

“Whose room were you in, Harry?”

“Tara’s.” Liam raises an eyebrow as he eats his burger.

“It wasn’t like that, Liam,” I backtrack. “The other evening, I was returning to my room after a meeting with Jeff when I heard someone crying in the room across from mine. The only reason that I know Tara’s in that room is because we left our rooms at about the same time the night we played truth or dare in Jeff’s room. Seeing as she’s a contestant in my group who has to compete, I wanted to make sure she was alright. She can’t exactly do that if she’s physically unwell. When Emily came by yesterday, I was talking to Pink World about what Jeff and I had arranged for them during practice regarding them fulfilling this challenge.”

“So, you were just following standard procedure.”

“Yeah. Tara had a migraine that was so painful that she was vomiting, and I had her band members stay with her yesterday while I attended practice. Emily shrieked when she saw me answer the door and quickly scurried off.” Liam nods his head.

“I see,” he says. “Tara was legitimately sick, then?”

“Yes. While she doesn’t have the migraine anymore, she’s certainly not feeling well, either. She was completely exhausted when I supervised Pink World practice in Jeff’s room today.”

Where is this going, Liam? I mentally ask.

“That certainly makes a lot more sense than what I overheard. It was really bizarre: something about Tara experiencing morning sickness from being pregnant and you being the father of her kid?” I nearly choke on a forkful of my Buddha bowl, and I end up going into a brief coughing fit. One of the servers notices and quickly fetches a glass of water for me.

“Thanks,” I whisper hoarsely as she sets the glass on the table. I take a swig of water to soothe the sudden scratchy feeling in my throat as Liam continues,

“For the most part, I figured that Emily was spouting BS, but I wanted to hear your side of the story so that I could help squash any rumors before they escalate and spread like wildfire.”

“I appreciate that, Liam.”

“What I don’t get is why Emily would say something like that. I mean, I understand why The Stony Badgers and Pink World have some beef, but Ivory’s not from the same place Pink World’s from, right?” I sigh.

“Ivory and Pink World were at the Midwest auditions. Jeff wanted me to meet Pink World, so he picked me up from the airport once practice was over that day and took me to the audition site. When I got there, the two bands were talking about the number of concerts they’ve been to, specifically those relating to us.”

“As a group or separate?” Liam asks.

“Both. Anyway, Tara was fighting a migraine that day, funny enough, and when I made my presence known, she hid her face in her hands. She looked like she was in a lot of pain, and you know how I get whenever I see someone in that state.”

“I do,” Liam briefly interrupts.

“So, I went to comfort Tara by rubbing my hand up and down her back, and Emily lost her shit,” I whisper.

“Really?” Liam asks softly. I nod my head.

“She went on and on about how she was trying to get my attention for years and how she’d been to all of these concerts like she was superior to people who haven’t, and she said that Tara was a bitch and that she was faking a headache just to get me to notice her. Tara’s bandmates rightly jumped to Tara’s defense and started arguing with Emily, but I could tell that all the yelling was getting to Tara, so I ended the bickering and told Emily to leave.”

“Oh my god. The rest of Ivory aren’t like that, are they?”

“I don’t think so,” I reply. “I think it’s just her.”

“Okay,” Liam responds. “Good to know. That explains a lot. I’ll definitely have a word with the band when we get back to the hotel later. So, what did you want to talk to me about?” To stall for time, I eat some more of my Buddha Bowl and drink the rest of my water. I decide to tell him the lesser of two evils first.

“There’s a couple things, actually,” I finally answer. I take a deep breath before continuing.

“Lou and I kinda started our relationship back up after we hooked up in New York one night around the time of the East Coast auditions.” Liam quietly gasps.

“I was wondering if something happened between you two. You’ve been awfully chummy with each other since we all came together here in LA.”

“Didn’t realize that I was that obvious,” I mumble.

“You’ve never been one to be overly subtle, Haz. Well, congratulations on resuming things with Louis.”

“I’d hold off on the applause,” I tell Liam. “It’s a bit more complicated this time.”

“How so?” I take so long to respond that I end up finishing my Buddha Bowl as Liam eats the last of his Impossible Burger.

“I think I might have developed feelings for one of my contestants,” I mumble very quietly, looking down at the table and barely able to hear myself.

“What?” Liam asks, as expected. If I couldn’t really hear myself, why would Liam be able to? I repeat myself loud enough for only Liam to hear.

“Okay,” he replies cautiously. “Who?”

“Tara.”

“Really?” Liam whispers in shock. I solemnly nod my head.

“How did this come about?” he asks.

“Well, when I first met her, I thought she was pretty cute, and when she performed in front of me for the first time I was enamored by her. However, for the most part I’ve been able to distract myself from my feelings by focusing on my job.”

“What changed?” I look up at Liam, not saying anything out of fear.

“Harry, I’m not going to yell it across the restaurant,” he tells me. “I’d like to think that I’m a better friend than that.” Something inside me breaks, and I end up spilling everything.

“When I heard Tara crying, my heart broke. When she wasn’t answering me, I started to panic, and I needed to know what was wrong with her. Not just because she’s a contestant on the show, but because I…”

“…care for her?” It’s at this point that I begin to ramble.

“Yeah, something like that. So, I had someone from the front desk come up and let me in her room. Liam, she was an absolute mess. She was vomiting and crying, and for a hot minute she was talking like a toddler. She even referred to Puck as ‘Puckie’ when she asked me to get him. Yet, when she told me that she was sorry for being a mess and for disturbing me, all I wanted to do was to hold her and let her cry into my chest and comfort her. Then, yesterday, after I sent Thomas and Ralph back to their room and basically ordered Puck to go to sleep---he hadn’t slept since Lou woke him up the night before---I rubbed her temples and tucked her into bed when she started to drop off. In her tired state, she told me that I’d make a nice pillow, and it legitimately stunned me into silence. I wanted to stay with her, Liam. I wanted to hold her until she fell asleep, and then hold her some more. I want to cuddle her, Liam. I want to kiss her and hold her and take care of her, and I know that this isn’t normal. I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way towards a contestant, and yet I’m finding it more difficult to stop myself.”

“I see,” Liam finally responds. He hasn’t opened his mouth since I started rambling. He never does in these situations. He listens until I’m done talking, and then he offers his two cents. Currently, I’m not sure if he’s disappointed in me, confused, or just overwhelmed by everything I’ve just told him. One thing’s for sure, though; he doesn’t look terribly happy.

“Does Jeff know about this?” he asks.

“He knows that I fancy Tara. He doesn’t know about the last two evenings.”

“Well, what did he suggest you do?”

“Focus on my job,” I answer. “Don’t allow my feelings to let me become biased in my judging. Get a hold of Lindsey if I’m unable to distract myself on my own.”

“Don’t contact Lindsey,” Liam suggests.

“Huh?” I would have thought that Liam would surely be one of the first people to jump on board on that idea, especially since he didn’t seem too keen on me liking Tara.

“Louis told me about the phone conversation you guys had back in June, and if he’s telling the truth, Lindsey is the last person you need right now. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t allow your dick to get in the way of your job, but you also don’t need to be emotionally drained every day from an abusive girlfriend. If you need to contact someone, why not Kendall or some other ex of yours?”

“Because the general public believes that I’m dating Lindsey, and I’m already on thin ice with PR for going through three girlfriends last year.” I sigh deeply.

“What about Louis?” Liam asks.

“That’s the complicated bit. I like both of them. It doesn’t help that one of her bandmates---” Our conversation comes to an abrupt halt as voices start bellowing across the pub. As we turn our attention to the bar, we quickly discover that the commotion is coming from Niall arguing with the bartender.

“Sir, you’ve had twenty-five shots of tequila in ten minutes, so I have to cut you off,” the bartender sternly tells Niall. “It’s a matter of your safety and the safety of those around you.”

“I’m fine!” Niall slurs boisterously. “I’m a fucking Irishman! I can ‘andle me own liquor!” Not this again. I don’t have it in me to deal with Niall’s bullshit right now.

“Sir, you are disrupting other patrons. Either you leave voluntarily, or I will kick you out myself.”

“We have to get him out of here,” Liam mutters. “We can’t have a repeat of X Factor 2015.” After our last performance before the hiatus, the four of us went to one of the local bars to drink together one last time before going our separate ways. To say that Niall got wasted is an understatement. He argued with the bartender when she tried to cut him off, and when she kept insisting, he started to really lay into her. Liam, Louis, and I all tried to get him to back off gently, but he wouldn’t listen to us. Then, one of the regular patrons told Niall to leave the bartender alone, and Niall lost it. He essentially started a bar fight that quickly escalated into a brawl. All three of us managed to yank Niall out of the bar, but not without receiving a few punches and Niall pouncing on a couple of people. It was a disaster. The only reason that Niall’s career didn’t end right then and there was because Carson paid for all of the damages the bar took during the brawl in exchange for the establishment’s silence on the condition that Niall’s never to return to that bar ever again.

While it takes several minutes for Liam and me to coax Niall outside, he thankfully doesn’t start a bar fight this time. His beet-red face indicates that he’s absolutely smashed, though. During my solo tour, I stumbled across an 80s show on the telly in one of the US hotels I stayed at about a little alien dude who was staying with a human family. I believe his name’s Alf. Anyway, at this moment in time Niall’s resembling Alf very strongly. His hair’s disheveled like Alf’s; he’s flailing around like the alien would sometimes; and their voices sound the exact same. I wish I was joking, but I’m being 100% serious. Niall’s even talking like Alf a bit as he calls out to random people on the street. Liam and I are nearly sprinting him back to the hotel, but the damage’s been done. On top of Niall looking like one of Alf’s relatives, he’s constantly stumbling on the concrete and falling on his face for all to see, even with Liam and me basically carrying him. Niall’s drunken ass is going to end up getting blasted all over social media and news outlets, I just know it. Jeff and Carson are going to be pissed at him. They might be cross with Liam and I initially, but I’m sure once we explain our side of the story that we’ll be okay. Not great, since they’ll probably chew us out for not keeping a better eye on Niall, but at least the majority of the heat won’t be directed at the two of us.

I may be attracted to one of my contestants, which I know puts me on thin ice, but I’m working on resolving the issue privately before the public suspects anything. I’m not getting shitfaced and making a fool of myself for the entire world to see.


	14. Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: explicit sexual language, unexpected character development

October

Pink World winds up being safe for the 70s-themed challenge. One of Liam’s bands gets sent home, and The Stony Badgers just barely get beat by Tumbleweed, which isn’t overly surprising to me; they listen to 60 and 70s songs every time they decide to light up a joint, which is constantly. 

When Saturday rolls around, I’m woken up by someone loudly and persistently knocking on the door.

“Hang on a sec!” I call out to the mystery person. I went to sleep naked last night, so I have to dig through my clothes to find some sweatpants to throw on. I glance over at the clock as I do so and discover that it’s a little after eight, the normal time that we have to be down at the lobby and ready to go to rehearsal by. Immediately, I start worrying that I overslept and made Pink World late for practice, so I yank on the first pair of sweatpants I find and rush to the door. When I fling the door open, Louis’s standing in front of the threshold with his hand awkwardly in the air in a fist, as if he was seconds away from knocking again.

“Um, hi,” I say to him, forgetting the apology that I had crafted in my head as I was searching for something to throw on. Instead of responding, Louis slowly lowers his hand to his side and casts his eyes all over me with a stony expression on his face, making me that much more nervous than I already was before answering the door. This goes on for about a minute or so, and something inside me forces me to speak in order to make this interaction less embarrassing.

“Can I help you?” I ask awkwardly. Louis clears his throat, closes his eyes as he shakes his head, and then focuses back on me.

“Jeff’s having a meeting in his room,” he finally replies. “We’re going on a little field trip today.”

“Sounds exciting,” I tell him. “So, no practice?”

“You’ll just have to find out.” Louis grins and winks mischievously, and he adds,

“Put on a shirt before you head up. Wouldn’t want people staring at you, do ya?” Before I can answer his question, he scurries away like a mouse; so, I’m forced to close the door behind me, throw a random shirt on, and make sure I have everything I need before I head up to Jeff’s room. As I walk to the elevator, a soft moan makes its way into my ears, causing me to stop in my tracks for a moment. Not hearing that noise repeated or a similar noise occurring in the general vicinity of where I’m standing, I shrug the noise off as something of my imagination and continue towards the elevator.

“During the entirety of September, you guys have been working nearly non-stop for this show,” Jeff tells us, sitting on the edge of his bed. There’s barely enough room for the eighteen remaining bands and the other judges to sit, not to mention the food Jeff apparently ordered for breakfast. We end up near the bathroom door and almost swished next to The Sparrows, which I can tell is making Tara feel a bit antsy. Ralph’s sitting in Thomas’s lap, which I can almost dismiss as just a coincidence due to our current circumstances, except Thomas has his arms wrapped around Ralph and is holding him pretty close to him. What is going on between those two?

“There hasn’t exactly been the opportunity to relax and explore some of what Los Angeles has to offer, and I’m sure you guys are starting to become a bit restless,” Jeff adds, forcing me to pay attention to what he has to say as I’m munching on an apple. “So, instead of going to practice, you guys get to go spend the day at Manhattan Beach.” People start chattering excitedly amongst themselves as soon as Jeff mentions the word ‘beach’. As Jeff explains some of the rules and details of the day, I happen to look over at Tara and sort of freeze. Instead of looking thrilled to get a break from the show, she looks worried.

“Everything okay?” I quietly ask her. Tara shakes her head.

“I’ll have to double check, but I think I forgot to pack a swimsuit,” she whispers in reply.

“How in the world…” I trail off, surprised. I swear, she’d forget her head if it weren’t attached to her.

“Tara, you knew that we were going to be in sunny California for a while,” Ralph tells Tara quietly. “The chances of us swimming at some point during our time here, even if it’s just in the hotel pool, are pretty high.”

“The thought just slipped my mind as I was packing,” Tara responds. “I was just trying to make sure I had enough clothes and bathroom products to last through until our elimination. You know how I tend to forget something at home when we’re out of town.” Our conversation must have caught Bella’s attention, because she suddenly chimes in,

“I brought a couple extra swimsuits, if you want to try them on. I think we’re the same size.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Tara quickly replies, shutting Bella’s offer down. “I’ll just ask if I can stay behind. I wouldn’t want to rain on people’s parade by feeling bad about myself for not packing my swimsuit.”

“Tara, there’s a lot of things you can do at and around a beach that don’t involve getting wet,” Thomas tells her. “I’m sure there’s plenty of shops that you can look around in.”

“Besides, I don’t mind giving you---” Bella starts to say.

“What’s going on over here?” Harry unintentionally interrupts, causing Tara to jerk back and hit her head on the wall behind her.

“Well, for one, you made me hit my head,” Tara replies, irritated and wincing as she rubs the part of her head that hit the wall. “I would really appreciate it if you stopped sneaking up on us like that.”

“Sorry, Tara,” he apologizes sincerely. “I’ll try to let my presence known sooner next time. Anyway, what’s up? Jeff’s finished the meeting, and everyone’s getting ready to go to the beach.”

“Tara forgot to pack a swimsuit, and she’s thinking of staying behind,” I answer before Tara can stop me. She tends to tell people that everything’s fine and dandy when she’s clearly not feeling that way.

“I offered to give Tara one of my swimsuits, since I brought a couple extra ones,” Bella adds. “We’re about the same size, and I don’t have a problem with lending one of them to her.” At this point, Tara’s trying to hide her face and curl herself into a ball, so Harry squats down in front of her and gently says her name, followed with,

“Look at me.” There’s a slight edge to his otherwise soothing voice that would cause me to do whatever he told me to do if I was in Tara’s position. Apparently, it has the same effect on her, for she unburies herself and looks at Harry.

“Now, here is what’s going to happen,” Harry tells us in the same tone of voice. “When we leave this room, Puck will take Tara to Bella’s room so that he can make sure that Tara tries on and borrows one of Bella’s spare swimsuits if one fits. The rest of you will go back to your room and get dressed as you normally would. Once you’re ready to go, you’ll meet us downstairs in the lobby. I’m not sure what Louis’s plan is as far as getting his bands to the beach, but I know that Pink World’s riding with me.” Not leaving time for any questions, Harry gets up off the floor and starts walking to Jeff’s bedroom door, making the eight of us follow Harry in suit as he leaves the suite. Right before I get ready to follow Tara and Bella, Harry puts his hand on my shoulder to stop me briefly.

“Keep an eye on Bella,” he whispers. Before I can ask him why, he lets me go, leaving me no choice but to catch up to the two girls. Tara’s in a daze as she, Bella, and I head to Bella’s room. As it turns out, Bella’s a couple rooms down the hall from me. When the three of us enter her room, the first thing that I notice is a light pink vibrator sitting proudly on the bedside table for anyone to see. Bella sees what I’m looking at and sheepishly grins.

“I must have forgotten to put it away last night,” she says, picking the vibrator up from the table and putting it in one of the drawers that the TV stand has. 

Keep an eye on Bella, Harry repeats in my head.

Once Bella’s closed that drawer, she opens up another drawer and pulls out a white bikini with horizontal yellow stripes on both the top and the bottom. The top looks kind of like a sports bra, and the bottom appears to be high-waisted. I think it’s from Forever 21, and the only reason why I know that is because Sofia tried on something similar once when she dragged me to the mall and had me watch her try on a bunch of swimsuits. 

“I don’t know about this,” Tara tells Bella when Bella hands her the bikini. “I normally wear one-pieces.”

“Sometimes, you gotta step out of your comfort zone,” Bella replies. “At least try it on. If you don’t like it, I have a one-piece that you can try.” That seems to work for Tara, for she goes into the bathroom, bikini in hand, and closes the door behind her. Once Tara’s out of sight, I take a seat in the chair across from a writing desk, and Bella goes back into the drawer that she pulled the yellow-striped bikini out of and takes out another bikini. It’s a light blue one, and it’s a lot more revealing than the first one. The top’s like a bralette, and the bottom is basically two pieces of fabric just large enough to cover intimate parts attached to each other with thick string.

“Do you need me to give you some privacy?” I ask Bella when she closes the drawer.

“Where exactly are you going to go to do that?” she answers with a laugh. “Harry seemed pretty adamant about you staying in here with us. He probably doesn’t want Tara to escape.”

Or for you to make a move on her, I suddenly think to myself. I have no idea where that thought came from. Would Harry even think that way?

“Well, I could turn away or close my eyes,” I suggest.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies. “I don’t mind people looking.”

“Well, that’s certainly different,” I state as she takes her light pink t-shirt off and throws it across the room.

“What can I say? I’m very comfortable with my body and how it looks.”

Clearly, I think to myself. I don’t think this is what Harry meant when he told me to keep an eye on her, but I’ll just have to roll with it. Bella’s pretty small up top, so the bikini top suits her well. Tara comes out of the bathroom right when Bella’s finished putting on her swim bottoms. 

“Wow, Tara!” Bella exclaims. “You look really good!” The bikini fits Tara really well in all the right places.

“Could I try on the other swimsuit?” Tara asks. “Just for comparison?”

“Yeah, of course!” Bella opens the swimsuit drawer back up and pulls out the one-piece for Tara to try out. The only thing that I can see of it before Tara heads back into the bathroom is that it’s black with some lace-up detail on the front. Once Tara’s gone, Bella walks over to me and sits on the side of her bed that faces me. Neither of us says anything, which creates a tense and awkward silence between us. Then, she smiles at me menacingly, which sends a shiver down my spine.

“So, Puck,” Bella states, almost sinisterly. “How long have you known Tara?”

“Since junior year of high school,” I mumble.

“Has she always been so innocent?” What did she just ask me? My mouth drops open in shock, and she laughs.

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t picked up on that!” Bella exclaims. “Her personality screams naivety.”

Keep an eye on Bella. 

“Well…” I trail off, not wanting to reveal too much to Bella. She’s not entirely wrong about Tara being inexperienced, but red flags start popping up in my head nevertheless. Where is Bella going with this?

“Tell me, Puck, have you ever wanted to change that?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, fully alert now.

“Have you ever wanted to fuck Tara senseless?” she whispers. “Tie her up, gag her, and fuck every hole in her body?” What in the actual fuck?

“I want to corrupt her, Puck,” she continues. “I want to destroy every ounce of innocence she has. I want her to get her so addicted to me that she’ll do whatever I want her to do without question. If I want her to drink, she’ll get so drunk she’ll be begging me to have my way with her. If I want her to get high, she’ll snort several lines down with no hesitation. If I want to fuck her for hours on end or have people get in a line and do unspeakable things to her, she’ll accept it with a smile on her face. Then, once she’s completely gone, I’ll throw her away and leave her to rot.” Did Harry sense something like this lurking in Bella? Is that why he wanted me to keep an eye on her?

“You wouldn’t dare,” I nearly snarl, anger suddenly starting to boil. I will not have her hurt Tara. If Tara wants to do those things, fine, but she will not be coerced into them by this bitch or by anyone, for that matter. I won’t allow it. Bella’s eyes sparkle, and she grins creepily.

“Oh, Puck, haven’t you been paying attention? This is a game, and we’ve already started playing.”

“Tara isn’t a game.”

“Sure she is, and an easy one at that. She’s already taken the bait; now, I just have to reel her in.” Holy shit. She used the bear to lure Tara into her twisted game. This is no longer about me being jealous of Bella; I have to protect Tara from her. I’m enraged, so much so that I’m starting to see red. Luckily, before I do something to Bella that will most definitely get Pink World disqualified from Rock Royale on the spot, Tara pokes her head out of the bathroom and asks,

“Could someone help me tie this?” Bella and I get up at the same time, and I rush into the bathroom to help Tara before Bella can beat me to it. I’m not about to let Bella touch Tara after what she told me. No fucking way.

In a twist of events, Tara ends up going with the bikini, rather than the one-piece. I personally like the bikini on her better than the one piece, but I wouldn’t have minded either way. Once Tara and I leave Bella’s room, we briefly separate so that I can change into a pair of black swim shorts and Tara can make sure that she has everything she needs before we head out for the day. By the time we get to the lobby, it’s pushing 9:30.

“Took you guys long enough,” Thomas joshes at us as we join him, Ralph, and Harry, who are sitting in a group of chairs near the door. Thomas, unsurprisingly, is wearing Hawaiian-themed swim shorts that are bright teal with pineapples wearing sunglasses all over them, and Ralph has gone more subdued with plain navy-blue trunks. Tara’s decided to throw a tank top and some shorts over the bikini she’s wearing. Harry, meanwhile, doesn’t look like he intends on swimming, for he’s wearing a pretty thin-looking black short-sleeved button-up shirt, cream-colored slacks, and nearly matching slipper/loafer-looking shoes. He also has a plain black tote bag that appears stuffed full of towels and a pair of black sunglasses perched on top of his head.

“Right, now that everyone’s here, we can head out,” Harry says to the four of us. We end up walking to a parking lot really close to the hotel, and Harry guides us to a black GMC SUV, where someone is in the midst of packing camera equipment in the back.

“Guys, this is Ryan,” Harry introduces the camera guy to the four of us. “He’s one of the people that will be filming throughout the day. He’s also a friend of mine, and we’re taking his car because apparently I’m unable to drive us there myself.” Harry’s eyes glisten as he finishes talking, and a corner of his mouth starts curving upward in a smirk.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t scratch your vehicles against shit every time you drove, then Jeff might have let you have driving privileges,” Ryan lightly teases. Ryan has a pretty high-pitched voice for a guy accompanied with a slight lisp. He also has spiked up light brown hair, tan muscled skin, a couple tattoos on his arm, and pierced ears, and he’s wearing a tight-fitting bright blue polo shirt, khaki shorts, and tan boat shoes. Ralph for whatever reason seems to be checking him out, and Thomas is trying his hardest not to laugh. As if I already didn’t have enough weighing on my mind.

“The last time I dinged any of my cars up was last year,” Harry banters back. “Usually, I’m a pretty good driver; it’s just that sometimes there are circumstances that take my focus away from the road.”

“Like receiving a blowjob from some drunk ass model,” Tara mutters under her breath. For one very brief second, I have hope that no one heard Tara, but that hope is quickly dashed as a flabbergasted Harry turns his attention from Ryan to Tara and Ryan starts laughing his ass off. Harry doesn’t say anything initially, but the smirk that was developing on his face a few seconds ago seems to have now transferred over to Tara, who’s currently wearing a shit-eating grin. 

“Get in the car,” Harry ends up sighing in defeat, causing Tara to cackle a bit and Ryan to give her a high-five. The four of us figure that Harry would be in the front passenger’s seat next to Ryan, so we all get in the back. I’m in the seat behind Ryan, Ralph is in the one behind Harry, Tara’s sitting between Ralph and me, and Thomas is in the very back with the equipment. Ryan and Harry join us in the car once they load up the last of Ryan’s equipment and Harry places his bag next to Thomas. Ryan starts the car with a push of a button. A few seconds later, we’re on the road, and I look out the window and allow myself to take everything in.

Initially, we pass a lot of buildings and businesses typical of a downtown area, such as banks, small dining establishments, and clothing stores. As we drive further up the road, I start seeing palm trees planted next to the sidewalk and government buildings. The palm trees are certainly different than what I’m used to seeing back home. We eventually turn down another road, but it’s full of the same downtown stuff that I’m already familiar with. At one point, we pass a wall with a colorful mural on it containing two elderly-looking faces, which captures my attention during the moment that I’m able to see it. I start losing interest when we turn down yet another street and go through a really long tunnel because I grow tired of seeing things that I’ve seen before at home. I want to see something new. After what feels like forever, Ryan finally gets us on the highway, and I feel myself start to get excited.

At this point, Harry decides it would be a great idea to use Ryan’s car to play his music, so our musical journey begins with Harry and Ryan belting out ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. From there, our little road trip is set to the tune of various songs from the 70s with the occasional 80s hit scattered here and there and the GPS female voice giving directions. I lose interest the longer we’re on the highway because what I had failed to realize earlier is that once you’ve seen one highway, you’ve basically seen them all. After nearly an hour, we take an exit off the highway and end up driving through a town the GPS calls El Segundo. The mood in the car changes to pure excitement as the GPS tells Ryan to turn on Manhattan Beach Boulevard because the six of us know that we’re close to the beach.

At last, Ryan goes into a parking lot and parks the car. Everyone climbs out of the SUV, and my bandmates and I stretch out any kinks formed in our muscles from being sat in the car for so long. Ryan and Harry go to the back and grab their things, and Harry pulls out his phone and briefly looks at it.

“It’s almost eleven,” Harry announces. “Anybody hungry?”


	15. Tara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of cutting and implied depression

The six of us end up walking for about ten minutes to California Pizza Kitchen because Thomas is the first person to suggest something to eat, which happened to be pizza. Puck and I order the Spinach and Artichoke dip with the intention of just splitting it between the two of us. My mom introduced it to me when I was still in high school, and I got Puck hooked on it when Pink World went to a restaurant called Bravo to celebrate our talent show win. However, as soon as the server brings the dip, Ryan is the first to take a bite, followed by Harry. So, instead of splitting the dip two-way, it’s split four-way.

Ryan apparently is a vegetarian, so he ends up getting the full-sized Roasted Veggie salad. Ralph, not feeling like eating pizza, orders the Garlic Cream Fettuccine with chicken and shrimp. Harry gets a half-sized version of the Italian Chopped salad and has a slice of Thomas’ BBQ Chicken Pizza, Puck’s Pepperoni pizza, and my Five-Cheese and Fresh Tomato Pizza. We make small talk as we eat as to not make the atmosphere feel awkward. Once Harry’s paid the bill of nearly $121 and the six of us head outside, he digs around in his bag and pulls out four smartphones along with four towels.

“Jeff wanted you guys to have these,” Harry explains as he hands out the phones to Puck, Ralph, Thomas, and me. “That way, you can reach out to him or me if you need anything. The other judges’ numbers are also on there just in case you’re not able to get to Jeff or me, but make sure you contact us first before you resort to calling one of them. I don’t know where Ryan’s going to end up, but I’m planning on doing a bit of shopping. Finally, no one is to be wandering around by themselves. There needs to be at least one other person with you. It’s a matter of your safety. Does everyone understand?” Ralph, Thomas, Puck, and I tell Harry yes, and he goes off in one direction as the four of us walk towards the beach with Ryan in tow. 

Once we get to the beach part of the town, Puck grabs my hand and drags me to a nearby pier and guides us to an uncrowded part of it. We grab a seat on a nearby bench, and neither one of us says anything for several minutes, instead choosing to look out on the water. It’s evident that Puck wants to say something, because he’s really fidgety, but something is preventing him from opening his mouth and talking. He looks down at the pavement, and he finally ends up murmuring,

“I’ve liked you since we were juniors in high school, Tara. Ralph probably told you that already, but there’s something that he hasn’t told you, mainly because he doesn’t know this happened.” He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around late October, early November. I had gotten into a vicious fight with Sofia the night before, and I cut myself for the first time. So, all day I was struggling to keep my emotions to myself. For the most part, I did a pretty decent job. Then, as I was walking out of my last class and towards my locker, I overheard you comforting a girl sitting against a wall and sobbing at the top of her lungs, all while curled up in a ball. You were sitting beside her, rubbing your hand back and forth on her shoulder. Seeing you made me start breaking down, and I rushed out of school before anyone could see me cry. I think I caught your attention when I slammed my locker door, but I was gone before you could say anything.” 

“I would have been more than willing to comfort you if that’s what you wanted,” I tell him. “I’ve never been one to turn someone away when they need a shoulder to cry on.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was being weird,” Puck mumbles. “Or a pussy. I only saw you in the halls during that time. I had no idea who you were outside of brief glimpses.”

“I care too much about other people’s emotions, Puck. When someone I care about is upset, I want to comfort them. That was true then, and it’s true now.” Puck gives me a half-smile.

“I know. That’s one of the many things that I like about you, Tara; you have a big heart.” As Puck continues to talk, my mind starts to wander as I take in Puck’s appearance. He’s always had silky, well-maintained hair, and I suddenly want to run my fingers through it. His eyes have a bluish hue to them today, which compliments his tan skin really well. And his lips? Something that I never gave much thought to before, but now I want to feel them against mine. I feel like a stereotypical main character from a romantic film with how intently I’m focusing on his physical appearance, but I can’t seem to be able to stop myself from doing so.

“Tara?” Puck asks suddenly, yanking me from my head and back into our conversation. He’s no longer looking at the ground but instead is looking right at me.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You look like you just got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.”

“I’m fine,” I reply too quickly for it to be credible. “I was just looking out at the Pacific Ocean.”

“From where we’re sitting, the best view of the Pacific Ocean is right in front of us. I don’t think there’s a need to turn your head to the side.” Puck finishes the last sentence slowly, as if he’s concentrating. For a moment, he appears deep in thought. Then, a glint of light flashes across his eyes, and a smirk starts forming on his face 

“You were checking me out, weren’t you?” He’s trying to remain serious, but I can tell he wants to laugh so badly right now.

“N-No,” I stutter, making it completely obvious that I’m lying. Puck’s smirk quickly turns into a full-on grin. My heart starts beating faster, and my stomach tightens.

Pull yourself together, Tara, I tell myself. Puck wouldn’t want you to lose your cool right now.

“It’s okay, Tara,” Puck replies. “I’ve checked you out before.” Wait, what?

“Really?” Puck nods his head.

“During lunch sometimes, especially when you were wearing a nice outfit, I would sneak glances over at you. I had to be careful, because usually Sofia was sitting with me. Then, once she was out of the picture but before we became close, I didn’t want Ralph and Thomas making fun of me for it.” Well, this is news to me.

“What about now?” I ask him.

“It happens more frequently and with greater intensity,” Puck replies. “Of course, some of it might have to do with the fact that I get to see you every day. You were cute when we first met, and you’ve only gotten prettier the longer I’ve known you.” He just keeps revealing all of this new information to me like he’s a slot machine that’s hit the jackpot. Silence sneaks its way into our conversation. In an attempt to end it, I open my mouth to joke about it, but Puck’s expression has turned serious, almost on the verge of crying.

“Puck? Are you okay?” Puck sighs.

“I know we said that we would wait to pursue things until we were back home, but I don’t know how much longer I can wait. I know that I’m going to sound like a jealous brat when I say this, and I’m sorry; but, I feel like if I continue to wait, then by the time we’re out of this competition, you’ll already be snatched up by someone else.” 

“Puck, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” I ask, wanting to get straight to the point.

“Something like that,” he mumbles. This would be the part of the stereotypical romantic movie where the two best friends slowly lean in and kiss as triumphant music plays in the background. However, this isn’t a movie; this is real life, and right now, there’s a pressing question that needs to be asked.

“What about Louis?”

“What about him?” Puck replies. “He’s a celebrity. You’re my friend. Yeah, I’ve had a crush on him since I was thirteen, but before this competition I’ve ever only known of him. Even now, it’s not like I’m super close to him.” Puck pauses briefly before adding,

“I could ask you a similar question: what about Harry?”

“I’d end up echoing you, if I’m being completely honest.” I answer. Puck nods his head, and we don’t say anything for a couple minutes. I end up looking out on the Pacific Ocean for real.

“I think I got it,” Puck suddenly announces.

“What?”

“Hall pass,” he replies really vaguely.

“What are you talking about, Puck?”

“Harry and Louis are our celebrity crushes, right?”

“Yeah,” I answer slowly. “Where is this going, Puck?”

“If we ever get the opportunity to be intimate with them, maybe instead of worrying about upsetting each other, we could just go for it?” Puck asks.

“Isn’t that cheating, though?” Puck smiles.

“You know how we were able to do things outside the classroom with a hall pass that we weren’t able to do without one because we got someone’s permission with the pass to be in the halls during class time?”

“Sort of.”

“Well, maybe we give each other a pass.” The pieces finally connect in my head, and I clarify,

“Oh, so you’re proposing that we essentially give each other a hall pass to have an intimate encounter with Louis and Harry?”

“Bingo.” Puck’s idea does seem reasonable, and under different circumstances I would agree to it. However, there’s just one little thing---or rather, person---that’s making the whole thing a bit more complicated: Bella. I tell Puck this, and his eyes narrow as he replies,

“I know like I’m going to sound like a controlling boyfriend when I say this, but I don’t want you hanging out with Bella unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Okay…

“You’re right: you do sound controlling.”

“I’m not saying that because I’m jealous of Bella. She’s not a good person, Tara, and I’m not going to let her hurt you.”

“Puck, did something happen while we were in her room?” He’s acting too melodramatic for something not to have happened earlier this morning. Puck proceeds recounts his interaction with Bella as I was trying on the second swimsuit. When he’s done talking, several alarms are going off in my head.

“Oh my god,” I whisper. I feel like I’m going to get sick. How twisted does someone have to be to think that destroying someone’s innocence is a game?

“I already didn’t have the highest opinion of Bella, which you’ve probably figured out already, but now I can’t even think of her in a neutral light. I don’t want her around you, not just because I’m interested in you, but because I would be the worst friend if I let her anywhere near you.” Even with Puck’s story in mind, some people would still think he’s being jealous and controlling and consequently blow him off. I’m not one of those people, not with Puck. I know he genuinely has my best interests in heart, and he wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“If you want to explore that side of your sexuality, that’s fine; just don’t do it with her,” Puck continues unnecessarily.

“Puck?”

“Yeah?”

“If you feel like Bella’s an untrustworthy character, then I’ll try my best to stay away from her,” I tell him. “I trust you.”

“Really?” Puck asks, his eyes lighting up in relief. I nod my head, and Puck gives me a hug that I quickly return. When we break apart from the hug a moment later, Puck doesn’t pull back all the way like I expect him to. Instead, his eyes scan my face like it’s a difficult puzzle that he’s trying to put together.

“Maybe I need to stop overthinking things,” Puck quietly and suddenly blurts out.

“What are you talking abo---” The rest of the word gets muffled as Puck abruptly leans in and kisses me. It’s very short and intense, and when he pulls back my heart’s beating fast and my head dizzy.

“Jesus,” I mutter to myself.

“I’m sorry,” Puck babbles. “I don’t know what got over me. I should have asked---”

“I’m not upset at you.”

“You’re not?” Puck asks.

“No, I’m not; I was just caught off guard, that’s all. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Oh,” Puck faintly whispers. It’s clear he’s still embarrassed, so I ask him,

“Look, if I was upset with you, would I do this?” I then lean in and gently kiss Puck. Mine lasts a bit longer than his, and when I pull away from him, he looks starstruck. Neither one of us says anything for a moment, and Puck looks like he wants to kiss me again. However, instead he looks away from me and retrieves the phone that Harry gave him out of his pocket to presumably look at the time.

“We still have some time before we have to start heading back to the hotel. Do you want to go out on the beach and have some fun?” Puck asks.


	16. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: f-slur, explicit language

While the majority of the people involved with Rock Royale are at the beach, I decide to walk around the area and do some shopping. After looking around a couple of different local boutiques close to the beach, I decide to pop into a store called Free People. Lindsey, along with a couple of my exes, is obsessed with this clothing brand, and she’s pressured me to buy some things for her online and give it to her as gifts. However, I’ve never been inside one of their stores, so I figure that it wouldn’t hurt for me to look inside and see what they have.

Of course, the minute that I step inside, the store attendant closest to the doors recognizes me, and she’s overly enthusiastic as she tells me to let her know if I need any assistance. I get that reaction a lot. I’ve grown used to it, so I’m usually not fazed by it these days. Anyway, I stroll through the store, allowing my eyes to wander. A couple minutes in, they land on a black leather jacket studded all over with silver stars and circles. Instantly, I envision Tara wearing it. I initially try to ignore the image, but the harder I try putting it out of my mind, the clearer and more detailed it becomes. Soon, I start thinking about what would happen if I were to buy Tara some clothes. As I’m mulling this scenario over, the attendant from earlier walks past me, stops, looks at the jacket I’m looking at, and asks me,

“Are you interested in trying on that jacket, Mr. Styles? It’d look spectacular on you!”

“Actually, I was wondering if you can help me, if you aren’t too busy,” I reply before I can stop myself. 

“Of course!”

“If you had to create an outfit around this jacket, what would you---” I don’t even have to finish the sentence before she gets what I’m requesting.

“Well, sir, if you can just follow me, I can help put together an outfit for you. Is it for a friend?”

“Something like that, yeah,” I answer, not wanting her to know any specific details.

I end up dropping nearly $5,000 at Free People. This isn’t the first time that I’ve dropped a few thousand dollars during a shopping trip. What usually happens is I see one item that I think would look good on me or someone I know, then I see another item, and then I get carried away with my shopping, and before I know it, I wind up spending several grand in one place. 

In my defense, I purchased 26 items, so it’s not like I spent all that money on only one or two items. Also, not all the 26 items are for one person. I started shopping for Tara, and then I thought,

Well, I should probably purchase something for the other members of Pink World. Wouldn’t want to look like I’m playing favorites. This thought was immediately followed up with,

In that case, I probably should buy something for all the bands in my group and not just one. Thus, I spend slightly under $5,000 for nearly 30 items intended for Pink World, Sofia (despite my personal feelings towards her), and Stripes, my girl group. I have the store attendant try to separate the clothes into different bags for each of the band members, but some of the items, like shoes, require their own bag.

Once I’ve paid for all the items, I walk back to Ryan’s car to put the bags in the back and to borrow it for a few minutes so that I can drive to Tommy Bahama, which is the first store that popped up when I searched for men’s clothing stores in Manhattan Beach.

Was it sneaky for me to take Ryan’s car out for a spin? Considering the fact that I didn’t ask Ryan if I could borrow it, perhaps. But, it’s quicker for me to drive to the store than to walk there. Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving the area in it. Once I get to Tommy Bahama, I approximately spend another $4,300 on some shirts for Ralph and Thomas (since I only found bottoms for them at Free People), myself, Louis, Dark Galaxy, and The Pythons. When I return Ryan’s car to its parking spot, I look at the time and figure that it would do me some good to go over to the actual beach, even if it’s just to look out at the ocean and read a book. 

I end up walking up to the pier, since it has benches and a good view of the ocean. As I look for an empty seat, something moving out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. When I turn my head towards the moving object, I discover Tara and Puck sitting on a bench together. This alone isn’t a big issue, but the fact that Puck’s kissing Tara rather roughly causes me to start becoming jealous. Then, when Tara leans in and plants a gentle kiss on Puck’s lips a moment or so later, I internally start screaming in agony. In that moment, I realize that I can no longer distract myself from my emotions alone. So, I walk further down the pier away from Puck and Tara, pull out my phone, and call Jeff. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey, Harry. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to go ahead and ask her to come over here.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Did something happen since we last talked about this?”

“Yes, just now.”

“Harry, I only suggested her because of PR. It’s been a year; you don’t have to reach out to her to do this if you don’t want to. In fact, I strongly advise you not to---”

“As far as the general public knows, I’m still dating her, and the last thing I need is cheating allegations.”

“Harry, you can break up with her---”

“I didn’t call to debate about this. Just tell Carson that she’s coming so that he’s not alarmed when she shows up.”

“Harry, listen, we can talk about this, just the three of us. I’m sure Carson would be more than willing---”

“Bye, Jeff.”

“Harry, what about---” I end the call before Jeff can change my mind. I then scroll through my contacts until I find her number and call her. She takes longer to pick up than Jeff, but she eventually answers.

“Harry, I’m in the middle of a photoshoot. What do you want? Don’t you have that show to do or something?” I know that what’s about to come out of my mouth is a complete and utter lie, but I don’t know what else to do. It’s too late to turn back now.

“I’ve missed you,” I tell her.

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Daddy doesn’t like girls who don’t listen.” I know, I know, I cringed too. However, Lindsey’s into the whole daddy kink thing, and it’s the one thing that I’m sure will get her to come over here.

“Harry, this photoshoot is very important, and I have to be completely focused for it!” she hisses. “I’m trying to get myself turned around, and this could be a huge step in the right direction for me!”

“Are you able to get to L.A. when you’re done with what you need to do?”

“I’m in France for Dior this week, but then I have some free time until the new collection hits, so I should be able to venture over that way sometime next week.”

“Excellent. You better be a good girl, or I just might have to punish you when you get here.”

“Harry, stop!” she responds flirtatiously. “I have to go.” She ends the call, and my stomach ends up sinking.

My gut tells me that I shouldn’t have done that, but I can’t exactly change direction now.

I sleep past my alarm the next morning, so I’m about fifteen minutes late to practice. As soon as I step inside Royal Rehearsal, I hear intense, loud arguing from the other end of the building. 

What the hell? Shouldn’t people be practicing?

“Why the fuck are you even bothering us, Sofia?” Puck’s voice rings through the building. “What do you want from us?”

“I want your stupid little band to leave this competition!” Sofia yells back. “You shouldn’t even be here in the first place, you fucking faggot!” My feet move before my body can even attempt to stop them, and my blood begins boiling. There are very few things in life that I deeply resent, and the f-slur is one of them. Even if I was completely straight, I wouldn’t tolerate anyone using that word.

“You’re such a bitch!” Thomas roars. 

“Well, at least I didn’t have to suck cock to get and keep a spot,” Sofia replies. “If the rumors are true, then your sweet, innocent Tara is becoming a whore, and Puck’s not too far behind.” Sofia and the rest of The Stony Badgers are extremely lucky that Jeff beats me to them, because I would have screamed at them and made the situation that much worse.

“What’s going on here?” Jeff asks sternly as I finally reach him and the two bands. “You’re disrupting the other bands from practicing.”

“Well,” Ralph starts to explain, “what happened was---”

“---that Pink World’s cheating and hooking up with judges, and they need to get disqualified for breaking the rules and not even sending in a tape like they should have!” Sofia interrupts.

“First of all, we went through the audition process fair and square,” Puck nearly screams at her. “Secondly, we’re staying in this competition on our own merit, not because we’re doing special favors for any of the judges.”

“Then how is it that you’re still here after missing practice sessions and not performing with the rest of us a couple weeks ago?”

“BECAUSE I WAS SICK, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Tara shrieks.

“HEY!” I bellow, causing everyone to shut up and turn their attention towards me.

“Thank you, Harry,” Jeff says with an angry edge to his voice. Directing his focus on the two bands in front of him, he adds,

“Now, both of you are going to go to your designated rooms and stay in there until practice is over. If I hear anything come out of your mouths or your rooms that doesn’t directly relate to practice, then I’m sending you back to the hotel, and you won’t get to practice tomorrow, no questions asked. I might even consider sending you home, which I don’t want to do, but I will if you continue acting up like this. Do I make myself clear?”

“That’s not fair!” one of the other members of The Stony Badgers whines as Pink World nods their head in acknowledgement of Jeff’s request. Wrong move, buddy.

“Actually, I’m being very generous,” Jeff nearly growls. “I’m giving you a second chance when I could just as easily disqualify you on the spot for interfering with your fellow competitors’ ability to practice fairly.” Pink World rushes back into their practice room, and The Stony Badgers slouches away after standing and glaring at Jeff for a moment. Once the two bands are gone, Jeff looks at me and takes a deep breath.

“Why were you late?” he asks. I tell him that I overslept, and he nods his head.

“I’ll let it slide this time, because you’re usually very punctual,” Jeff replies. “Just don’t make a habit out of it, or I will have to do something about it. Got it?”

“Yep.” Jeff takes another deep breath.

“I need to step outside for a few minutes and calm myself down. Would you mind checking in on Dark Galaxy for me? I was just getting ready to pop my head in when this happened.”

“Sure thing, boss,” I answer jokingly, hoping to get him to smile a little. I succeed in getting Jeff’s facial expression to soften a bit, but no smile.

“Thanks, Harry. You really do have a way of making people feel better.” Jeff pats my shoulder a couple of times as he walks past me to get to the exit, and I walk over to the room that Dark Galaxy’s practicing in. When I peek inside, the members of the band are huddled close together. They’re one of the few bands in this competition that has five members: the lead singer, two guitarists, a drummer, and a keyboardist.

I gently rap my knuckle on the door, causing the five of them to break their huddle.

“Hey, man,” Seth, the drummer, greets in a stereotypical stoner voice. “Is everything okay? We heard some yelling.”

“Everything’s fine now,” I reply. “Jeff sorted it out. He needs to cool off for a bit, and he sent me to check in on you guys and see how you’re doing.”

“Well, we actually have a problem,” Brody, one of the guitarists, responds.

“Go on,” I tell him.

“You see, Patrick woke up with no voice.” Patrick is the lead singer, and he clears his throat.

“It’s not that I don’t have a voice, but rather that it sounds like this,” he explains with a constant raspy croak.

“You don’t need to try to sing,” I tell Patrick. “Or talk, for that matter. Once we’ve figured out who’s going to replace you on vocals this week, I’ll find someone to take you to the doctor so that you can get some medicine. Now, is there anyone in the band that can take Patrick’s place for the week?”

“Normally, there would be, but the song that you assigned to us is a bit tricky,” Seth answers. Today kicks off the start of the two-week long 80s challenge to continue the history of rock theme. One of the two songs the bands have to perform is something their mentors have assigned to them. In Dark Galaxy’s case, I picked “Street of Dreams” by Rainbow, because I want them to push them outside of their comfort zone by having them perform something that isn’t heavy metal.

“Well, is there anyone that can’t sing well?” Seth raises his hand.

“I tried singing once, but I got booed off stage,” he elaborates. “So I just stick to the drums.”

“Okay. Brody?”

“My voice is a little too deep for this particular song. Lee or Dylan might be able to, though.” Lee is the keyboardist, and Dylan is the other guitarist.

“I suppose I can give it a shot,” Lee volunteers.

“Terrific.” All of the bands received a copy of the lyrics of the songs chosen for them when they first arrived at practice, but I have a feeling that Dark Galaxy hasn’t heard this particular song before. So, I pull out my phone and earbuds out of my pocket, pull up Spotify, and look up the song on there.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Lee asks.

“I’m pulling up the song so that you can sing along to it,” I answer. “You have the lyrics, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Got it.” He grabs the lyrics from Patrick and goes to stand in front of the microphone.

“There’s no need to do that,” I tell him. “I’m not having the others join in just yet. At the moment, I just want to hear the sound of your voice.” Lee nods his head, and after attaching the earbuds to the audio jack on my phone, I hand the phone to him. 

“Go until the end of the first chorus and stop.”

“Okay.” Lee sticks the earbuds in his ears, hits the song title so that the song starts playing, and sticks the phone in his pocket. As Lee sings, I find that, while he sounds decent, something seems to be missing. Once Lee’s done singing, he pulls out the earbuds and my phone out of his pocket and starts to hand them to me.

“I’d wait on doing that until Dylan’s gotten a chance to have a go at it.” Dylan’s been the quiet one of the band. He hasn’t said a word to me so far in this competition, and I don’t think he’s said anything to Jeff, either. Even now, as he takes Lee’s place and grabs the lyrics, my phone, and my earbuds from Lee, he remains mute. He kinda reminds me of Zayn in that regard; he didn’t really talk a whole lot to people outside of his immediate circle. Even when we were on the road, he would usually only talk to Liam and Louis and occasionally Niall and me if we weren’t sober. Dylan also kinda looks like him, too, but with lighter skin and significantly less tattoos.

“Same thing goes for you,” I tell Dylan. “Go until the end of the first chorus.” Dylan nods his head, and he mimics Lee’s earlier actions, except he closes his eyes after sticking my phone in his pocket. When Dylan starts singing, I’m in complete shock: he has some stellar vocal chords. The best way I can describe his singing voice is that it’s angelic but somber, and it suits the song perfectly. There’s even a couple times that I feel he sounds better than the original recording. When he pauses the song, no one says anything for a minute or two. Guess I’m not the only one blown away by Dylan’s voice.

“Dude, I had no idea that you could sing like that,” Brody tells him, breaking the silence.

“I became a member of this band as a guitarist, not a singer,” Dylan replies. Even his speaking voice sounds melodic in nature. “Besides, Patrick had the vocals covered. I didn’t want to steal his thunder by going outside of my part in the band.” Once again, Patrick clears his throat and responds in a raspy voice,

“If I would have known that you sung like that, I would have been more than willing to let you be the lead singer. It’s not like I’m incapable of playing a guitar.”

“Patrick,” I reply. “What did I say about you talking?”

“Sorry,” he mouths silently.

“You need to sing, man,” Seth tells Dylan. “The world needs to hear your voice. At the very least, the other judges do. You have something special that might just give us an edge in this competition.”

“Quite possibly,” I respond. So far, the frontrunner out of all the bands in this competition is easily Pink World, with The Sparrows being the next in line. If Dylan performs well Friday, he might just shake up the competition and put some pressure on Pink World that they really haven’t had previously.

Things are about to get quite interesting, to say the very least.


	17. Puck

Before Sofia and her cohort of rats poked their nasty little snouts in our practice room and started throwing slurs and insults at us, Thomas, Ralph, Tara, and I were talking about the song that Harry had assigned to us: “Is This Love” by Whitesnake. We got interrupted before we could really get anywhere with our conversation, so now we’ve picked up where we left off.

“Do you think Harry’s trying to say something to us?” Ralph asks. He’s leaning against the wall as Thomas sits on the table across from him. Tara’s sat on the floor, and I’m standing in the middle of the room, looking closely at the lyrics in my hand.

“I think he wants us to be more serious,” I answer quietly. “We’ve performed energetic songs thus far, so maybe he’s trying to challenge us with something that’s slower.”

“Or maybe he’s giving you the opportunity to express deeper emotions,” Tara replies. Something clicks in my head when she says that, and my heart starts beating faster as I realize that the lyrics reflect how I’m feeling towards Tara. That sneaky little son of a---

“You okay, Puck?” Thomas asks, who’s apparently walked over to me while I was in my head. “You look a bit flustered.”

“I’m fine,” I answer, my voice almost cracking. I clear my throat before adding,

“So, serious, emotional songs this week. I’ll probably end up singing this one, so does anyone have any ideas as to what our other song should be?”

“Love Kills,” Thomas blurts out.

“From the fourth Nightmare on Elm Street movie?” Tara asks. “Didn’t think you were into horror films.”

“First off, the Nightmare on Elm Street series are among the best movies to exist,” Thomas retorts. “Secondly, Love Kills is one of my favorite songs. Got hooked on it from the first time I listened to it. You have the vocals for it, Tara.”

“Shall we listen to it?” Ralph asks. Jeff’s let us keep the phones provided to us for yesterday’s trip to the beach, and Thomas pulls his out of his pocket and pulls up YouTube.

“Is the song not on Spotify?” I ask.

“It is, but YouTube has the original, uncut version, which I prefer.” The song’s apparently by a band called Vinnie Vincent Invasion. Thomas taps on the first video that pops up in the results and turns the volume up so that we can actually hear the song. Right off the bat, the song sounds heart wrenching, and the lyrics only add to that emotion. As the song progresses, though, I start to worry. Tara does have the vocals for the song, no doubt about that. But, does she have the emotional intensity that this song seems to require? As far as I’m aware of, Tara hasn’t been in a situation where she feels like her heart is getting ripped from her chest from emotional pain. If she has, it happened before I knew her, and/or she’s kept quiet about it. Looking over at her, I can tell that she has the same concern.

Right when the song finishes, someone knocks on the ajar door: Jeff.

“Hey,” he greets us once he has our full attention. “I thought I heard music playing in here. You guys thinking about performing that song for this challenge?”

“Maybe,” I answer. “Harry assigned us ‘Is This Love’ by Whitesnake, which I’m going to sing, and we’re trying to find another rock ballad for Tara so that we can keep things consistent. Thomas suggested ‘Love Kills’ by Vinnie Vincent Invasion, and we just finished listening to the song.”

“Original or radio version?” Jeff asks.

“Hopefully the original,” Thomas replies. “Would we have time for the full song?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jeff responds. “If you guys want, I can get a copy of the lyrics and sheet music for ‘Love Kills’, and we can give it a go. Did you get sheet music for ‘Is This Love’, or just the lyrics?”

“Just the lyrics,” I tell him. Jeff nods his head.

“Then, I’ll get that for you as well. Anything else you need?”

“I’m sure I’m speaking for my bandmates when I say that we’re really sorry about what happened earlier,” Ralph pipes up. “We were just trying to talk about the song Harry assigned to us when The Stony Badgers decided to bother us, and things got very heated and out of control way too quickly.”

“I appreciate the apology, Ralph,” Jeff replies. “I do want to know if anything Sofia was saying is true.”

“You mean in regards to Tara and I hooking up with judges?” I ask. Jeff nods his head.

“That is a pretty serious allegation, enough for Pink World to get disqualified if it was true. Obviously, I don’t want that to happen if it isn’t necessary, because you have a lot of potential.” Tara and I look at each other, and we silently conclude that we need to tell Jeff everything.

“What Sofia was saying is, pardon my French, a load of bullshit,” I explain to Jeff. “Neither one of us is sleeping with any of the judges in order to keep a spot in this competition. However, and I’m not sure if this is against the rules, both Tara and I have a bit of a celebrity crush on a couple of judges.” Jeff peeks his head down the hallway for a brief moment before responding,

“You two certainly aren’t the only ones in the competition in that boat, and there isn’t anything wrong with that, as long as you keep things professional over the course of the show. Just tread lightly. Understand?”

“I have a question,” Thomas states before Tara or I can reply to Jeff. “So, obviously, contestants aren’t allowed to sleep with other judges, but is there anything prohibiting contestants sleeping with other contestants?”

“Tom!” Tara hisses, causing Jeff to enter the room and close the door behind him.

“Now, what would cause that sort of question to be brought up?” Jeff asks quietly, the corner of his mouth curving up slightly. Tara looks at the wall with a blush forming on her cheeks, and I turn my head to Thomas and glare at him.

“Puck and Tara kissed on the beach yesterday,” Ralph answers. “I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“Ralph!” Tara whines in protest.

“I see,” Jeff responds. “Well, to answer Thomas’ question, I’m just going to say this: as long as they don’t get caught, what happens between contestants after practice is their business.” Tara’s now looking a bit sunburnt in the cheeks, although clearly the sun ain’t causing the redness.

“I know you said that you wanted us to remain in this room until practice was over, but is there any way I can go to the restroom for a bit?” she asks, embarrassment evident in her voice.

“Yeah, of course!” Jeff answers with a grin. “Don’t tell the other bands this, but that was mainly directed at The Stony Badgers so that they wouldn’t try to bother you again. If you need to cool off for a few minutes, then go right ahead. Besides, I still need to get sheet music and lyrics for you guys.”

“Thanks,” Tara squeaks, opening the door and nearly sprinting out of the practice room. Sometimes, when she gets overwhelmed, Tara goes into the bathroom and splashes herself with some cold water in order to calm herself down. Jeff leaves the room shortly after, and I turn onto Ralph and Thomas.

“What the hell was that all about?” I ask them.

“Believe it or not, that question wasn’t just directed at you and Tara,” Ralph mumbles. What is he talking---

Oh. OH. 

“What is going on between you two?” I whisper urgently.

“We’ll explain everything, I promise; just not right now,” Thomas answers.

As the week progresses, we bounce back and forth between practicing ‘Is This Love’ and ‘Love Kills’. I’m able to take my emotions and channel them into the song, which is what I think Harry was intending when he assigned this song to us. Even though my voice isn’t able to go quite as deep as David Coverdale’s, I’m able to make what I have work with the song.

Tara, on the other hand, is struggling. The issue doesn’t lie in her singing, because she’s able to hit all the notes. No, her difficulty lies in making the song her own and giving it some pizzazz. There’s a difference between just singing a song and feeling the song, and unfortunately, Tara’s doing the former this week. Is that something that would put us up for elimination? Probably not, but we might end up disappointing a lot of people. After all, covering 80s music is what Pink World has become most famous for back home, and while I’ve certainly had a hand in creating that reputation, a large part of it comes from Tara. 

All of this carries over to dress rehearsal Thursday, where we have to decide which song to perform tomorrow and inform Jeff and our group mentor of our decision. How dress rehearsals work is that each band goes on stage and performs their two songs back to back. Before the bands perform, Jeff asks them if they already have a clear idea of what they want to perform the next day; then, once the bands are done, the two judges give their opinions on which song to perform on Friday and which song to practice more during the following week.

When Pink World goes on stage and as we’re getting set up, Jeff asks us this first question.

“Well,” I answer. “I think we’ll end up performing ‘Is This Love’ tomorrow.”

“Is Tara still having a hard time connecting with the song?” Harry asks, already irritated. Something about him’s changed. When he’s checked up on us, he’s seemed less warm than before. Maybe he’s just trying to do his job and not get too attached to any of the bands, but my gut keeps persisting that it’s more than that.

“Yeah, she is,” I answer.

“Well, let’s hear both songs, and we’ll go from there,” Jeff replies. I end up singing first. I try to keep my emotions in check, because both Jeff and Harry have noted that I sometimes get too caught up in the song to the point where I nearly become frozen in place. However, going into the second chorus, my emotions start running free.

“Have you thought about what you want to wear tomorrow?” Harry asks us once I’m done with the song. A valid question, but a little odd at the same time. To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought, other than maybe dressing a little nicer.

“Not really, no,” I answer. “Why do you ask?”

“I did some shopping last weekend when you guys were enjoying your beach day, and I bought stuff for all of my bands,” Harry responds. “Once practice is over and we’re back at the hotel, feel free to swing by my room so that I can give you your clothes.”

“Oh, wow. You really didn’t have to do that, Harry.”

“It’s fine. It’s all part of the budget.”

“Going back to the music,” Jeff says, redirecting the conversation back on course. “You did splendid, Puck. Just try not to lock your knees. Can’t have you passing out on stage again.”

“Got it,” I tell Jeff. Shortly thereafter, it’s Tara’s turn. I will give her this: she is trying her hardest to connect with the song, and she sounds lovely. She even sounds good on the guitar when she joins me for the main solo, which was actually Thomas’ idea. I suppose it’s the perfectionist in me talking, but I still feel like there’s something missing that is preventing Tara from truly shining.

“I think you sound really good, Tara,” Jeff states once the song is over. “Good enough to perform tomorrow if you wanted to.”

“The issue doesn’t lie in her singing ability,” Harry blurts out before Tara has the chance to thank Jeff. “There’s no doubt that she sounds decent. However, if you compare Puck’s performance and Tara’s, you’ll find that Puck’s able to bring emotions into the song and really sell it. ‘Love Kills’ is a pretty dramatic, serious, and sad song, and I don’t feel like Tara’s bringing the emotional intensity required for it. I almost wonder if she’d be better off singing another song.” Even though Jeff’s told us basically the same thing a couple times this week, he nevertheless seems alarmed by Harry’s tone. I don’t know if Harry’s simply frustrated because, like me, he’s seen Tara excel at connecting to songs and wants her to deliver up to his expectations, or if there’s something lurking beneath the surface; either way, his tone is disproportionately angry towards her, and I don’t like it one bit.

“I do understand where you’re coming from, Harry, but at the same time, I feel like if they want to perform ‘Love Kills’ tomorrow, they’ll do just fine.”

“And there lies the problem,” Harry nearly snarls. “She can do better than ‘just fine’. This band can do better than ‘just fine’.”

“How do you guys feel?” Jeff asks us with the same edge in his voice from when we were arguing with The Stony Badgers, causing Harry to shut up. “Do you guys still want to perform ‘Is This Love’ tomorrow, or not? I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”

“I think we’ll stick to our original plan,” Tara mumbles, looking down on the ground and probably fighting back tears.

“Then, that’s what we’ll do,” Jeff responds. “Get some rest.”

Harry better be lucky that I have some self-control and don’t want to get disqualified and that there are witnesses, because otherwise I might have jumped off the stage and started throwing punches. No one makes my friends cry for no good reason and gets away with it.


	18. Tara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: implied sex

“Did Harry seem a bit off, or is that just me?” Ralph asks. The four of us are currently hanging out in my room to look at the clothes that Harry bought us while we were at Manhattan Beach, since my room is across the hall from Harry’s.

“He might have just been tired,” Thomas replies, plopping down on one of the beds. “Dress rehearsal did seem to drag on today, so maybe he wants to get some shut-eye.”

“Tired doesn’t explain him thrusting Tara’s bag of clothes in her hands and avoiding eye contact with her as much as humanly possible,” Puck responds angrily. He’s still upset about Harry’s tone towards me at dress rehearsal, and there’s definitely a part of him that wants to march over to Harry’s room right now and fight him.

“Shall we see what we got?” I ask, changing the subject to hopefully take Puck’s mind off Harry.

“I’ll go first,” Thomas gleefully volunteers. He grabs his bag off the floor and pulls out a dark blue short-sleeved button-up shirt with miniature palm trees embroidered all over, a pair of black vegan leather skinny pants, and a pair of black Old Skool Vans.

“That’s interesting,” Thomas murmurs.

“What?” I ask him.

“Oh, nothing,” he answers. “I just think that the shirt would suit Ralph better. He’s not really into bold prints like I am.”

“Well, only one way to find out,” Ralph responds. “Try it on.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Thomas jokes as he gets off the bed and heads into the bathroom to change. On his way to the bathroom, Thomas stops briefly to ruffle Ralph’s hair, which causes Ralph’s cheeks to start turning pink.

“Alright,” Puck says as soon as the bathroom door closes. “What exactly is going on between you and Thomas?”

“W-What do you mean?” Ralph stutters slightly, already indicating that something is going on, because why would Ralph get nervous otherwise?

“Thomas told me that you’d explain everything earlier this week, but each time I’ve brought it up since then, both of you have avoided the subject like it was the plague.” Now this I didn’t know. Must have happened while I was in the restroom or not hanging out with them. As Ralph continues to dodge the question, I start reflecting on his interactions with Thomas. The two of them have definitely seemed more intimate since we landed in LA and particularly during these last couple weeks. Ralph sitting on Thomas’ lap, the two of them constantly glancing at each other at practice, and now Thomas ruffling Ralph’s hair. Then, it hits me. 

“You’re dating Thomas, aren’t you?” I ask Ralph. It certainly makes sense. Ralph’s acting too nervous for the relationship to just be a friendship or even a bromance.

“M-maybe.” Ralph’s voice goes up in pitch, and I can tell that he’s trying to hold back tears.

“You guys aren’t giving Ralph a hard time, are you?” Thomas interrupts as he comes out of the bathroom in his outfit. He walks over to Ralph, sits down next to him, and gives him a quick kiss before wrapping an arm around him and bringing Ralph closer to him.

“No,” I answer. “We’re just trying to understand what’s going on between you two. We’ll support you one way or another; we’re friends, after all.”

“Tara and I wouldn’t let whatever’s happening between you and Ralph break our friendship and the band up,” Puck adds. “Besides, we’d be pretty hypocritical if we did. So, you can trust us.” Thomas sighs heavily.

“Some of why I’ve been so hesitant to tell you guys is because I didn’t want to freak Ralph out any more than he already has,” he tells us. “But, since it’s out in the open, I might as well tell you the truth. What I told everyone during the truth or dare game wasn’t exactly accurate. Yes, Ralph and I made out, and yes, it was Ralph’s first kiss, but everything that I said happened leading up to the two of us making out was completely fabricated.”

“So, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing?” Puck asks. Thomas shakes his head.

“Ralph here has had a crush on me since we first met as freshmen,” he replies. Holy shit, I was not expecting that.

“Really?” I ask.

“I didn’t know,” Ralph whispers. “I’ve always thought I was straight. I didn’t think…” He’s really having a difficult time holding it together, poor guy.

“Ssh,” Thomas murmurs softly, patting his hand on Ralph’s arm. “Here, why don’t you try on the outfit Harry got for you, and I can tell them everything. Sound good?” Seeing Thomas being tender is shocking to me. I didn’t think he had it in him to be soft. Thomas unwraps his arm from Ralph, and Ralph takes his clothes and heads into the bathroom.

“You do look nice, by the way,” Puck compliments Thomas. Oddly enough, the outfit does suit him. Sure, it’s not loud, but it reads Thomas to me.

“Thanks,” he replies. He momentarily pauses, but then launches into his story.

“I knew Ralph wasn’t straight the minute I laid my eyes on him. I also knew that he didn’t know that he wasn’t straight yet. I had my sexuality figured out when I hit middle school, but I’ll admit that I was perhaps an early bloomer in that regard.” Hold on. Thomas is gay? There’s a bunch of new information hitting me at once right now, and I need to process everything before I get smacked with any more. But, that’s rarely how life works.

“The people in my friend group at the time also figured out real quick that Ralph wasn’t straight, either. They wanted to push him out of the closet. I didn’t. They were really persistent about it, so I dropped them and befriended Ralph so that I could protect him from them. I wanted Ralph to have the opportunity to decide on his own terms whether he wanted to leave the closet or not. In the meantime, I wanted to let him know that he had someone to support him no matter what he did.”

“That’s really sweet, Thomas,” I tell him. “Especially from you. I didn’t think you had it in you to be so nice.” Thomas smirks.

“I can’t be going around acting all soft to everyone I meet; I have a reputation, you know. But, Ralph does bring out that part of me.”

“Awww!” Puck teases as Ralph walks back to us. His outfit complements Thomas’. His shirt is light blue with miniature parrots all over; his pants are the exact same as Thomas’; and he’s wearing black Converse shoes.

“Well, don’t you look handsome,” Thomas remarks as Ralph resumes his position next to him.

“Stooop,” Ralph whines softly, trying to hide his head and failing.

“What, I’m not allowed to tell people that you look good, Ral?” Wow. Thomas even has a nickname for Ralph. Must be serious.

“You do look nice, Ralph,” I tell him.

“See?” Thomas replies, looking at Ralph. “My point exactly.” He kisses Ralph’s cheek before turning his attention back to Puck and me. They really are cute together, no doubt about it.

“So, what happened in New York?” Puck asks quietly. “For real this time.”

“Ralph came out to me,” Thomas sighs. “He told me what I’d basically figured out about him from the get-go, but I knew he needed to be the one to say it, not me.”

“And? Do you like him?” Thomas stares at Puck deadpan.

“You know, for a smart person you can be quite dumb sometimes,” he tells Puck. “Of course I like him.”

“I meant romantically.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Puck. I’ve always found Ralph cute. It got really bad sophomore year when he found his sense of style. There were many times that I daydreamed about making out with Ralph on the spot, but I knew he wasn’t ready for that at the time, so I kept myself under control.

“Once Ralph came out to me in New York and revealed to me that he had a crush on me, I told him that I felt the same way about him, he asked me to kiss him, I obliged, and well, you know the rest.” Thomas’ story has got me reflecting on where things are with Puck. While Ralph does seem nervous about letting other people know he’s dating Thomas, it’s clear that they know what the relationship between them is. Meanwhile, I don’t even know what to call what I have with Puck. Even though we had our talk on the beach, we haven’t exactly had time to really do anything since we’ve gotten back from that trip.

“Well, it’s getting close to curfew,” Puck announces, yanking me out of my head. “You guys should probably get going.”

“What about you?” Ralph asks as he and Thomas get up off the spare bed. “Don’t you need to get to your room, too?”

“I will in a little bit,” Puck answers. “I’d like to spend some alone time with Tara.”

“OOOOO!” Thomas jests, opening the door and letting Ralph out first.

“It’s not like that, Thomas, and you know it!” Puck exclaims. Once our two bandmates are out of the room, Puck takes a deep breath and looks at me. For whatever reason, that simple action has made me jittery all of the sudden.

“I’m going to pop in the bathroom really quick and try on what Harry got for me, and then we can talk,” he tells me. As soon as he closes the bathroom door behind him, I start missing him and wanting him to come back.

Tara, calm down. He’s still in your room; he’s just in the bathroom part of it.

Still, when Puck walks back out with his outfit on, I find myself releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“I’m telling you right now, these are definitely women’s pants,” Puck states as he looks in the mirror. “It’s pretty tight in the crotch area.” He’s wearing the same pair of black vegan leather skinny pants that Ralph and Thomas received, but this time, the pants are paired with a sheer-looking white blouse with lace detailing and a ruffled neck and cuffs and shiny black heeled boots.

“In fact,” Puck continues. “I’d wager that this entire outfit came from the women’s section. Harry totally isn’t trying to tell me something here.”

“You look like a prince,” I blurt out. Puck turns his head to look at me momentarily, then looks back at the mirror, then back at me.

“I can see where you’re coming from, Tara,” he responds under his breath. “Like a time-traveling Victorian prince.”

“Do you like it?” I ask him.

“I’m not sure. It’s different, that’s for sure. I’m still trying to get used to how it looks on me.”

“Well, I think it suits you.” I get off the bed, walk over to him, and hug him from behind.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, Puck. I do.” A brief moment of silence. Then, I start yakking.

“There was this one time during sophomore year where you came to school in a black leather jacket with fringe all along the sleeves and back, a dark red t-shirt, black leather pants, and black combat boots, and whenever I saw you that day, I could not take my eyes off you. That’s when my crush on you began. If I saw you for the first time in this outfit, I probably would have the same reaction. Both outfits radiate an energy that draws me into you.”

“Hang on.” Puck unwraps himself from my arms and turns to look at me. “You’ve liked me since we were sophomores?” I knew he was going to focus on that part of my statement. I’ve only just admitted to myself that that’s when I started to like him; until New York, I’ve suppressed anything I felt towards Puck that wasn’t friendly. I glance at the ground.

“Yeah. I thought you were way too cool for me, so I didn’t say or do anything. You were with Sofia, for fuck’s sake. Sure, I later found out she was absolutely despicable, but I didn’t know that then. I actually thought she was one of the coolest people in the school. I couldn’t compete with her---” Puck gently grabs my chin and pulls my face up so that my eyes are meeting his.

“Tara, if you’re telling the truth, then I regret not getting to know you sooner. You are honestly one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true.” With that, Puck moves his hand from my chin, steps closer to me, cups my face, leans in, and kisses me softly. A moment later, my face feels like it’s on fire, which is weird because all he’s doing is kissing me. Puck stops at about the same time and leans back to look at me.

“Are you okay, Tara?” he asks. “You look pretty flushed.”

“I…I…” Shit. Why am I not able to talk again?

“What do you need me to do? Do you need me to wet one of the washcloths with cool water and pat it against your face? Do you need me to get some ice? What do I---”

“Kiss me,” I murmur, my voice going up pitch slightly. Somewhere in my addled brain, I’ve concluded that Puck needs to continue kissing me in order for me to feel better. How or why I’ve made this conclusion, I don’t know. Puck looks like he’s about to protest, but then he closes his mouth and starts studying me for a moment.

“Well, Jeff did say that as long as we didn’t get caught that whatever happens between us stays between us,” he finally murmurs.

“Puck?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking?”

“I want to make out with you.” My mouth drops, and Puck quickly adds,

“I’m not talking anything crazy here; we can just lie down on one of the beds and kiss each other. We don’t even have to take off our clothes. But if you’re not feeling comfortable, we don’t have to. I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”

“I want you to hold me.” Wow. Okay, cheesy romantic female lead. Way to contribute, Tara.

“Okay, Tara.” Puck moves away from me to my bed and lies down on it on his back. After some hesitation, I lie down on top of him on my stomach. He wraps his arms around me once I rest my head on his chest, and comfortable silence comes between us as we lie on the bed together. Even though I wanted Puck to kiss me just a couple minutes ago, now I don’t want either one of us to move, even if it’s to start making out with each other. I understand how someone could write a song about this sort of moment; I honestly feel safe in his arms, listening to his heart beating. 

I think I love him.

If the night I cuddled with Puck for the first time was a dream, then the week that follows is definitely a nightmare. Friday is the calm before the storm, because while I can feel Harry glaring at me the entire time Puck’s performing “Is This Love”, we end up executing the song well. Then, Saturday comes, and shit starts hitting the fan.

The worst part isn’t Harry acting increasingly rude and snarky towards me as the week progresses. It isn’t him pushing my buttons to the point where I start crying, or my bandmates becoming frustrated on my behalf and ranting about Harry’s behavior when we get back to the hotel at night, or even me struggling to capture the emotional intensity of “Love Kills”. No, all of that pales in comparison to late Thursday evening, when the sound of a feminine someone moaning loudly next door as she’s orgasming sneaks its way into my dream and forces me awake. Initially, I think that maybe someone near my room has the TV turned up too loud, but right when I poke my head out to see where the moaning was coming from, the feminine someone starts screaming Harry’s name, and it becomes perfectly clear what’s going on. While I’m most definitely hurt by what I’ve just heard, it’s more because it’s the rotten cherry on top of the terrible sundae that my week has been than anything else.

Oddly enough, I don’t start crying when I shut the door and climb back underneath the covers. Instead, I lock my emotions into an imaginary box in my head. One thought repeats itself over and over again as I go back to sleep, eat breakfast the next morning, get questioned by my bandmates about my mood, change into the rather risqué outfit Harry bought for me, get driven over to the theater, wait for our turn to perform, and finally step out on stage in front of the microphone:

He’s going to get the emotional intensity that he’s been pestering me about, and Pink World’s going to win this challenge.


	19. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: Louis slander*, mention of sex  
*it gets pretty cruel and heartbreaking towards the end

I’ve made a huge mistake.

Some of the guys in the audience whoop and holler as Bella seductively performs “Whatcha Do to My Body” by Lee Aaron.

I’ve seriously fucked up.

Carson’s impressed by Dylan’s vocals during his performance of “Street of Dreams”. He even suggests to the band that Dylan becomes the lead singer, which is a huge compliment.

I shouldn’t have bought that outfit for her.

In her black leather jacket decorated with small star and spherical shaped studs, royal blue bralette, black vegan leather skinny pants, and black shiny vinyl boots, Tara looks downright sexy. Unfortunately, she’s chosen to perform “Love Kills” in that outfit, and she sounds absolutely miserable throughout the entire song. She struggles to hold back tears at different points, making the entire performance that much more heart wrenching. By the end, everyone is stunned into silence, and Pink World leaves the stage after a few awkward minutes pass. Puck puts his hand on her shoulder as the band walks off stage. Somehow, I know that Tara’s going to end up sobbing this evening.

I’ve made her feel this way. I tried to distance myself from my feelings towards her by acting cold around her, but I’ve definitely crossed the line this week. For fuck’s sake, I made her cry during practice a couple of times! If Mum knew that I did that, she would kick my ass. She raised me better than this.

Dark Galaxy ends up winning the challenge, and Niall loses his first band. I’m the only person among the four of us who still has five bands in the competition; the rest only have four.

I shouldn’t have asked Lindsey to come to Los Angeles. She brings out my nasty side. I mean, it’s 100% my fault for making Tara feel like shit, but I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Lindsey. God, look at me, making excuses for my behavior.

I skip out on dinner with Jeff, Carson, and my bandmates, instead opting to spend the night in my room with Lindsey. 

I didn’t see her last night as I roughly went in and out of her. I mean, I did in a physical sense, but my mind painted an entirely different picture. In the fantasy playing out in my head, Lindsey wasn’t the one giving me an erection. She wasn’t the one straddling my lap as I made out with her and took her bra off, or the one that couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough, or even the one that screamed my name as she orgasmed. No, the person that I kept seeing in my mind last night as I had a passionate evening with Lindsey was the one that I wanted to forget about and the reason that I asked Lindsey to come to LA in the first place. She’s the one that I want to do all that to, not Lindsey.

Shortly after eleven pm, after Lindsey’s long passed out, my phone lights up and tells me that Louis’s calling me. Picking up the phone, I answer it with a simple hello.

“We need to talk,” Louis responds, his voice sounding grave. “My room. Immediately.” He doesn’t give me time to say goodbye before hanging up, and that’s when it hits me.

I forgot about Louis.

Holy shit, I forgot about Louis. Even when Eleanor entered the picture and Louis had his kid with what’s-her-face, he never straight-up forgot about me. He always managed to make time for me and my feelings, and this is how I repay him? By disregarding his? He made it clear that he didn’t like Lindsey, because he knew how much pain she was causing me. And that’s just Lindsey! He doesn’t even know the full extent of how I feel towards Tara.

I go up in the elevator to the floor Louis’s on and walk to his bedroom door, bag of Tommy Bahama shirts in hand. It may be the last chance I have to give them to him. I gingerly knock on the door, scared of what’s to come. Louis greets me with silence as he opens the door, and he doesn’t say anything as I gently set the bag on the floor and stand in front of him. He’s trying to restrain himself, but I can tell that he’s not very happy with me at the moment.

He shouldn’t be happy with me. I’ve broken one of the most important rules of a relationship: communication.

“Sit,” he nearly barks at me, the first hints of fury flickering in his eyes like lighting. Once I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, Louis adds,

“You have some explaining to do.” I say nothing, which frustrates him. Nevertheless, he continues.

“Fine. If you’re not going to talk, then I will. Do you remember what happened the first official week of the competition, when Honeybees’ entire demeanor changed in 24 hours from dress rehearsal to performance day?” I nod my head. 

“Similar thing happened this week, but with your band. In Pink World’s case, it positively affected them, seeing as they had one of the best performances of this entire show thus far. But I know the change in their demeanor didn’t come from childish bickering between the four of them.” Louis sighs, and I brace myself for what’s to come. Louis is taking the slow approach this time, which can only mean one thing: catastrophic and explosive anger.

“Last week, I noticed that you were a bit hard on Tara during dress rehearsal. I might have shrugged it off as you just trying to do your job and make sure that your bands perform to the best of their abilities, especially in Pink World’s case, when they’re among the top bands in this entire competition. However, the fact that Jeff was caught off guard by your tone indicated to me that there was something deeper than that. Then yesterday, you were really brutal towards Tara. So, after practice, when you had left the building rather quickly, I pulled Jeff aside, and we had a lovely conversation.” Oh, shit. He’s pulled out the sarcasm. Not to mention, Jeff has a soft spot for Louis, so if Louis wants to know something about me, chances are, Jeff’s going to tell him. This is going worse than I thought it was, and Louis hasn’t even raised his voice yet.

“Now, do you want to tell me what’s been going on, or do I have to keep talking?” It’s my turn to sigh. Might as well start ripping the band-aid off.

“I fucked Lindsey last night,” I mumble.

“You WHAT?” There it is, the rat-like squeak. Louis’s voice gets like this whenever he’s yelling, usually in anger, but occasionally in excitement. That’s one of the things I don’t like about Louis. His squeaking gives me a headache if it goes on for too long.

“Jeff told me that you were contemplating having her come here, but this…this is some fucked up shit, Harry. You were nearly crying to me over the phone in June because of how she was treating you---which was abuse, by the way---and now you drag her over to LA so that you can PUT YOUR DICK INSIDE HER?! WHAT TYPE OF DRUG ARE YOU SMOKING, HAROLD?”

“I needed to distract myself,” I answer softly, the argument crumbling in Louis’s presence.

“From who? Me?”

“No. Tara.” Louis’s eyes widen, and the room fall silent for a few moments.

Just get it over with, Louis. I know you’re going to yell at me for being an ass, which I deserve, since I was indeed being an ass, so just get on with it.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve developed feelings for someone else?”

“It’s comp---” I start to answer.

“I’m not finished, Harold. Not only have you developed feelings for someone else, but you’ve developed feelings for someone in the competition, in one of the bands in your own group? Were you planning on telling me any of this at some point, by any chance?” I want to say yes. I really want to say yes. But, that isn’t the truth.

“No. Not until much later, at least.” 

“I could have helped you, Harry. Hell, you wouldn’t have had to use me to distract yourself if you didn’t feel like it. Remember Natalie? Eleanor’s friend? The one you thought was kinda cute and really nice? I could have asked Eleanor to have her come over on the weekends or something. She’s only about an hour away in Santa Ana, and she would have been more than willing to spend some time with you if you wanted a distraction. I understand needing to focus on your job, and sometimes I’m not the best at keeping you on track. Besides, I know Natalie’s good people. She’s in her junior year of college, last I heard, working towards a degree in psychology with decent grades and a clean record.”

“What about Tara?” I ask before I can stop myself. Louis closes his eyes for a moment before responding.

“Well, unless they severely fuck up a couple challenges in a row, even with Dark Galaxy coming forward as a serious contender this week, there’s a good chance that Pink World’s going to make it to the finale, when I imagine some rules are going to become a little more relaxed, since we would only have one band each to worry about. If it came down to it, and if you still feel the way that you do at that point, then after a nice, long conversation, I probably would have allowed you to have some fun with her for an evening, see where things went.” Before I have the chance to reply, Louis adds with a darker tone,

“But instead, you had to pull this shit. I bet you didn’t even think about me at any point in making the decision to bring Lindsey over here, did you? Don’t even bother answering that; I already know what you’re gonna say. You were so wrapped up in distracting yourself that it didn’t even occur to you to perhaps check up on me.” His voice is getting squeaky again.

“I know that I’ve fucked up in the past by only caring about you as it applied to me. I wanted things to work out this time. I was ready to treat you like you deserve to be treated, Harry. I know that being with someone like you requires a lot of effort, and I wanted to give you everything you wanted and needed so badly.” Louis sighs once again.

“I knew that your style in music changed since your time in One Direction, but I didn’t realize that your personality did, too.” That fucking stings.

“Well, at least I’ve done something since One Direction. Last time I checked, you don’t even have any merchandise out yet, let alone an album.” I mentally slap myself as soon as the words come flying out of my mouth, but there’s a part of me that really wants to push all of Louis’s buttons. Louis holds himself back as he replies with a steely edge,

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Harry, but I have a kid that I have to take care of. I may not have the best relationship with his mum, but Freddie means the world to me, and he needs his dad. Being a father is time-consuming.”

“Bullshit, Louis!” My voice becomes louder, and I’m almost shouting. “That is a load of bullshit, and you know it. I’ve seen the articles and pictures and posts on social media. I don’t think a good father’s supposed to be in and out of bars every weekend and showboating his girlfriend around while leaving the mother to do the actual rearing. When was the last time you’ve seen Freddie? Did it even occur this year?”

“Oh, like you’re not doing the same fucking thing!” Louis’s full-on yelling now. “You and your string of slutty girlfriends dining at all of these fancy restaurants and showing up at these exclusive parties and getting completely smashed!”

“At least I am getting invited to parties! At least people want my presence at events! I’m making a name for myself as a solo artist. These days, do people even know who you are, besides being the guy from One Direction that procrastinates releasing an album and strings his fans along by telling them that it’s coming ‘soon’?”

“Because it IS coming soon, Harry! I just have to provide some finishing touches to it.”

“Yeah, like autotune to make you sound somewhat pleasing to the ear.”

“I CAN’T CONTROL WHAT MY VOICE SOUNDS LIKE, HAROLD!”

“No, but you should know your limitations. There’s a reason why you didn’t get a whole lot of vocals in One Direction.”

“OH YEAH? WHY’S THAT, HARRY? YOU’RE SO WISE, SO WHY DON’T YOU GO RIGHT AHEAD AND TELL ME?”

“YOUR VOICE SOUNDS ATROCIOUS OUTSIDE OF THE HARMONY! IT’S WORSE THAN FINGERS SCRAPING A CHALKBOARD OR A CAT GETTING RUN OVER BY A CAR! JUST ADMIT IT, LOUIS: YOUR GLORY DAYS WERE IN ONE DIRECTION, WHERE YOU COULD HIDE BEHIND THE REST OF US AND GET BY! YOU DON’T HAVE THE CHOPS TO STAND OUT ON YOUR OWN, AND YOU NEVER WILL! THE ONLY REASON WHY YOU’RE EVEN A JUDGE ON THIS SHOW IS BECAUSE OF THE REUNION!”

“GET. OUT.”

“A fucking RAT would sound better than you. And, if it were anything like the one on Red Dwarf, it’d look and dress better, too.”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM, HARRY!” Louis grabs the closest thing to him, which happens to be the remote control, and throws it at me. In retaliation, I pick up a pile of his dirty clothes and chuck it in his general direction. From there, my rage causes things to get blurred together. Somehow, I wind up pressed against the wall, Louis only inches away from me with his tobacco-scented breath hitting me square in the face.

“If you want to see the sun tomorrow, I suggest you leave now,” Louis growls. “Don’t even bother thinking about coming back until Lindsey’s gone.” My feet ignore my plea to push Louis out of the way and instead guide me out of his room and into the elevator.

I’ve seriously fucked up. If it weren’t for my heart deciding it wasn’t content with just Louis and having me fall for Tara as well, none of this would have happened, because then I wouldn’t have felt the need to distract myself by bringing Lindsey over. I want to apologize to Tara and Louis for my actions, but I’m afraid it’s too late. I have to live with the consequences of my actions. Lindsey may be a toxic bitch, but after being a giant prick over the last couple of weeks, I deserve to be stuck with her.


	20. Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: hooking up in revenge, fairly significant age gap

11:19 PM

Let’s play “Who Wants to Be A Millionaire”. The million-dollar question: why can’t I go to sleep? Is it because: a, I’m not tired; b, the thoughts in my head are preventing me from relaxing; c, a dream woke me up; or d, two grown ass men are arguing at the top of their lungs?

In actual fact, it’s a combination of all four. I was asleep and dreaming when I heard Louis’s voice yell,

“What type of drug are you smoking, Harold?” Instantly, my eyes open, and I’m like,

What the hell? I can only assume that he’s arguing with Harry, but I don’t know what it is that’s got Louis so upset at him. I climb out of bed and head into the bathroom to get myself some water from the tap. Sometimes, drinking some water helps me go back to sleep, and my throat does feel a bit parched.

There’s a quiet lull as I gulp down the water, like the calm before a major storm. I walk back to my bed and turn on the TV to search for something I can use as white noise so that I can fall back asleep. As I’m flipping through the channels, I can hear voices slowly starting to rise; by the time I finally find something on TV, Harry and Louis are screaming at each other, and I end up turning the TV back off. I can’t block them out without turning up the volume so loud that I can’t go to sleep, so what’s the point of having it on in the first place?

When Harry starts attacking Louis on his singing voice, chills start running up and down my spine, freezing me in place. I never would have thought he’d be capable of being that mean, even after watching him verbally pounce on Tara over the past week. He may have been pressuring her to have a deeper emotional connection to the song, but he didn’t tell Tara that her voice sounded worse than a cat getting run over by a car.

What causes me to leap out of bed is the sound of things being thrown. I don’t know why I did it, or what I was planning on doing, but the next thing I know, my hand’s on the door handle. Right as I open the door wide enough to poke my head out, I watch Harry stomp out of Louis’s room and slam the door behind him. I quickly close my door before Harry can see me. I don’t want to be at the end of Harry’s wrath. He might get us kicked off the show, for all I know. He appears that angry.

After that, silence permeates the room, and under different circumstances, I would have fallen back asleep. However, something decides to snatch away any tiredness I had left, and I wind up lying awake in bed. I feel like something’s going to happen, and I need to be awake for it. My breath even hitches a bit.

A few minutes after midnight, someone knocks on my door. Louis’s on the other side. Don’t ask me how I can know that without opening up the door; I just know. I also don’t know how I feel like I have to let him in, nor how my body moves towards the door with a mind of its own. Soon, Louis’s standing in front of the TV, facing me silently as I sit down on my bed with a cold, hard yet sad look in his eyes.

“How much of it did you hear?” Louis finally asks quietly, referring to his argument with Harry.

“To be honest, you yelling ‘what type of drug are you smoking, Harold’ woke me up,” I reply. “Does Harry have a---”

“No,” Louis interrupts. “I know what you’re about to ask; no, he doesn’t have a drug problem. He's smoked marijuana pretty frequently in the past, but that’s not the point. I asked that question regarding something else entirely. Has nothing to do with drugs.”

“Maybe he should have smoked something,” I tell Louis. “The way he attacked your voice was extremely brutal. It made me freeze.” Louis nods his head grimly, but he doesn’t verbally respond initially. After a few moments of silence, he opens his mouth again.

“He normally isn’t like this. I mean, he’s said some horrid things when we’ve argued before, but before tonight he’s never brought my voice into it, and to be honest, I’m incredibly hurt. I’m insecure about my voice because I’ve been told time and time again that it sounds too girly or, if I’m singing, croaky or tired or squeaky, take your pick. Harry knows that I feel that way, so for him to say that a rat would sound better than me is just…” He trails off and clenches his hands in anger. Poor guy. I want to comfort him, and I think that’s going to mean telling Louis the full story of how I knew I was bisexual, because it does involve his voice. Before I get the courage, though, Louis states,

“One of the things Harry told me was that he was trying to distract himself from feelings he’s developed towards Tara. Obviously, you have a closer relationship with her than either one of us does, so maybe you’d know the answer to this question based on conversations you might have had with her: how does she feel?” I fucking knew it. He was acting pretty shady back when Tara was fighting that nasty migraine, and now it makes perfect sense. That bastard.

“About Harry, you mean?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well,” I answer. “the simple answer is that she does fancy him. I think she’s trying to keep her head in the competition, but there’s definitely a part of her that’s heartbroken right now.” Louis sighs.

“I was afraid you were going to say that. I mean, I’m glad that he was trying to put his job ahead of his emotions, but I just wish he could have told me sooner. If he wanted a distraction, I could have easily given him one. He didn’t have to bring her here. I may be an asshole at times, but I’ve never abused him or anyone that I’ve been with, for that matter. I can’t believe he forgot about me!” He slams his fist on the TV stand as he’s saying the last sentence, making me flinch.

“Sorry,” Louis grumbles. “Here I am, a 27-year-old man, ranting to an eighteen-year-old about my feelings. I’m sure The Sun would get a kick out of that one.”

“Almost nineteen,” I mumble.

“What?”

“I turn nineteen October 24th.”

“Okay, but still. I’m sure you have more important things to worry about than how I’m feeling. I know I’m supposed to.” He walks over to my bed and nearly plops down on it as he takes a seat in front of me.

“Maybe the critics and Harry are right; I’m insignificant outside of One Direction. I don’t even know why I bother trying to have a solo career.”

“I don’t think you’re insignificant.” Louis glances over at me and scoffs.

“I’m sure you don’t,” he replies sarcastically.

“Louis, you were the person that made me realize I was bisexual. That’s pretty significant.” I think his brain crashes when I tell him this, because he looks at me with the most confused look on his face and doesn’t say anything. My mouth, of course, takes this as a signal to make things even more awkward.

“I was listening to you talk in an interview back when I was thirteen, and I found myself with an erection once the interview was over. I ended up jerking off in the tub to the sound of your voice. There’s just something about your voice that turns me on, and I---” I get cut off by Louis’s lips pressing against mine, and I’m frankly caught off guard by it. Immediately, he draws back, gets off the bed, and starts pacing back and forth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispers. “I can’t be doing this. There are rules for a reason, and the last thing I want is to get you disqualified.”

“Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Technically, you’re not directly judging us.”

“What are you talking about, Puck? You’re spewing complete nonsense.”

“Think about it: you aren’t our mentor, nor are you one of the four judges that sits in that panel when we perform on Fridays. You’re only ever seeing us during dress rehearsals and actual performances, so if you were to break the rules, it might not be as big of a deal as if, for instance, Jeff was the one standing in front of me.” Once again, Louis initially doesn’t verbally respond, but instead looks at me in deep concentration.

“You’re right; I am spewing nonsense,” I mutter.

“I think you might be on to something,” he whispers. My heart starts beating faster as he returns to his spot on the bed.

“I just need to able to forget about Harry, even if it’s only for a little while. And I have to admit, you are pretty good-looking.”

“Do what you need to do, Louis,” I tell him, my face warming up at the compliment he gave me. Louis takes a deep breath.

“Please don’t go around and tell everyone about this,” he whispers as he leans in. “I would like to keep my job.”

“Okay,” I murmur as I close the remaining gap between us. The fanboy in me is screaming as Louis starts running his fingers through my hair, and we quickly go from merely kissing to aggressively making out. At some point, both of our shirts are off, and Louis’s rubbing his hands all over the upper half of my body. I’m so caught up in the whole thing that I can barely concentrate on anything else. That is, until his roaming hands find their way down to my sweats. Sirens start going off in my head.

I can’t have sex with him. That would be taking things too far. Besides, I need to focus on Tara. I know that we agreed to give Louis and Harry a free pass, but that was before Harry stomped all over her heart. She needs me to be there for her.

I quickly pull away from Louis and get off the bed. I think he knows that he crossed a line, because he looks absolutely horrified.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” I tell him. “Maybe if the circumstances were different, we could keep going, but Tara needs me.”

“It’s fine,” he replies a bit too emotionally for me to believe him. “I’ve kept you up long enough, anyway. You need to get some sleep. I’ll see you at dress rehearsal.” He grabs his shirt and nearly sprints out of the room before I can say anything else.


	21. Tara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: bullying, sexual assault  
Also, quick side note: if you've not seen the movie Legend, specifically with the Tangerine Dream soundtrack, you need to.

For the week-long 90s challenge, Harry’s assigned us “Under the Bridge” by Red Hot Chili Peppers, and we wind up in the bottom two for the whole challenge. Granted, my performance of the song’s extremely lackluster because my heart’s not in it, but at the same time I feel like it’s kinda hard to make that song not sound tired. Thankfully, our track record has saved us from getting eliminated; so, we spend the next day brainstorming for the next challenge: Rock in the 21st Century, which is also only a week long. On Sunday, we settle on “No Surprise” by Daughtry with Puck on the main vocals and Ralph on backing, and nothing really eventful happens until fifteen minutes before the end of practice on Tuesday, when out of nowhere Ralph tells Thomas,

“I want to do something this evening. With you. Alone.” Prior to this, Thomas’ messing around on the drums while the rest of us are tuning our guitars.

“Oh?” Thomas asks, looking amused but nevertheless giving Ralph his full attention. “What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner, maybe?” At this point Puck stops tuning and looks at me. As Thomas and Ralph hammer out their date night at the hotel restaurant, Puck whispers to me,

“Should we join them?” I shake my head.

“They probably need an evening to themselves,” I quietly reply.

“My room, then? We could order room service and find a movie to watch on television.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Once the two of us are settled onto Puck’s bed at about 6:30 pm, Puck and I end up ordering burgers, fries, and shakes from Justice Urban Tavern, the hotel restaurant, and having it delivered to us. For a couple hours, we play against each other as Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, and Family Feud are airing, and we talk about all sorts of things during the commercials. It’s quite nice to spend time with Puck like this, even though he ends up beating me on two out of the three game shows. I guess dating your best friend is sound advice after all.

By about nine, though, there’s a lull as Puck’s channel surfing, and I contemplate telling him good night and going back to my room. It’s curfew, after all; I don’t want to get the band in trouble. Right when I’m about to open my mouth to say something, Puck flips to a channel that’s starting to play a movie. The opening sequence looks familiar, so I stop Puck from changing the channel so that I can confirm that the movie playing is what I think it is. Then, I hear the pan flute, and I freeze. It is what I think it is. I would have never thought anyone would play it on television, let alone a Los Angeles station. 

“Tara?” Puck asks. “You alright?”

“We have to watch this,” I tell him. “This is one of my favorite movies. The soundtrack alone is definitely worth it, not to mention that the villain is simply…” I do a chef’s kiss, and Puck chuckles.

“Well, if you say it’s good, then it must be decent.” Puck and I reposition ourselves on his bed so that we’re lying against the headboard. Puck wraps an arm around me and brings me closer to him as the first scene from the 1985 film Legend starts playing. Initially, our focus is on the film; then, when Jack and Lili first meet in the forest and their theme song starts playing, I notice Puck has a strange facial expression developing on his face.

“You okay?” I ask him softly.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers in response. “The music, I mean. I’ve never heard anything that mesmerizing before.”

“It has that same effect on me, too. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.”

“It reminds me of you.” All my attention is on Puck at this point. That’s the first time anyone has compared me to a piece of music, and the fact that Puck’s using this particular work really throws me for a loop. I honestly don’t know what to say; even if I did, my nerves have basically rendered me speechless. My heart starts beating loudly in my ears. Then, Puck quietly utters eight words:

“Tara, I think I’m in love with you.” If it weren’t for the fact that I’m still somehow breathing, I feel like I would’ve dropped dead on the spot from absolute shock. As it is, my mind’s spinning out of control, and I start feeling like I’m radiating heat. Puck starts leaning in as if to kiss me, but before his lips reach mine, someone starts frantically knocking on the door. Puck sighs.

“I’ll get it,” he grumbles. “You stay here.” With that, Puck unwraps his arm from me, turns the television off, and gets up off the bed to answer the door. Immediately upon opening it, he asks in a concerned tone,

“Ralph, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’ll explain everything,” Thomas answers as he and Ralph enter the room. “Ralph, go in the bathroom. I’ll be there shortly.” Once Ralph closes the bathroom door, Thomas turns and sees me on the bed.

“Oh,” he states. “I didn’t realize we were interrupting something.”

“It’s fine,” Puck replies. “We were just watching a movie. What’s wrong with Ralph? Why is he on the verge of crying?” Thomas sits on the desk chair across from the bed as Puck joins me again.

“So, Ralph and I were at the hotel restaurant for our date, and the evening was going really well,” Thomas tells us. “At some point, Dylan, Patrick, and Lee from Dark Galaxy came in and were seated at the table behind where I was sitting, which wasn’t a big deal until I brought up the topic of modeling.”

“Why would that…” I start to ask, unsure how to finish the question.

“I told Ralph that I thought he could model if he really wanted to, Lee overheard me, and he went off,” Thomas answers. “He first came after me, telling me that I was stupid for even thinking that Ralph had a chance and rude for getting his hopes up, but then he started tearing Ralph apart. It took all of my self-control to not lunge at Lee and fight him. He was ruthlessly hurling insults at Ralph, and it was clear that they were really affecting him. Even after one of the waiters kicked Lee out for disrupting the other patrons and Patrick and Dylan apologized for Lee’s behavior, Ralph was still sniffling. So, I asked the person serving the two of us to pack our food up, and we left the restaurant.” 

“Isn’t that dine and d---” Puck begins responding, but then he stops himself and adds,

“Wait. Dinner’s technically free. I forgot about that.” Upon our arrival at the hotel here, Jeff told us that all of the contestants were on half-board, meaning that two meals at the hotel were covered. Since we usually get lunch delivered to us during practice, breakfast and dinner are our two “free” meals. There’s currently a more pressing matter than food costs, though.

“Puck, Ralph looks like he’s on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and you’re worried about whether or not they paid for their meal?” I scold him.

“Tara…” Puck groans.

“What exactly did Lee say to Ralph?” I ask Thomas.

“I think the two things that really got to Ralph were that---”

“---a pig looks more attractive than me and that I’m a fucking pussy,” Ralph interrupts, stomping out of the bathroom and plopping down on the spare bed. He then mumbles,

“He also said that Thomas was too bulky and that his hair’s too unnatural.”

“Listen, I can handle myself,” Thomas tells Ralph. “But if someone starts dragging someone that I care about, then I gotta defend them.”

“That’s why Lee kept saying that I was a pussy, Thomas!” Ralph yells. “Because I couldn’t stick up for myself the way a proper man should and had to rely on my boyfriend to fight my battles for me!”

“That’s part of what being in a relationship is, Ralph! I know how you get when someone confronts you like that, and I would be a pretty shitty partner if I just let Lee or anyone else verbally pummel you to the ground!”

“Will you two stop arguing?” Puck demands. “You’re going to wake someone up, and we’re technically breaking curfew.” Thomas sighs, and Ralph whispers,

“Sorry. I know I should brush this off, but I’m finding it really hard to. If anyone would know what’s hot, it would be him, with his brooding brown eyes and long, thick brown hair and perfect skin and lean but fit body. I could never compete with someone like that.”

“Ralph, listen to me: you are attractive,” I tell him. “I know you might find that hard to believe at the moment, but---.”

“Yeah, right. To flies, maybe,” Ralph mutters sarcastically.

“I’m being serious,” I respond. “I remember my friends swooning over you as early as freshman year of high school. They thought you looked dreamy with your blue eyes and floppy blond hair, and the fact that you always appeared to be daydreaming and were writing something down in a journal drove them absolutely wild.”

“There was even a couple of guys on the football team that fancied you,” Puck adds. “I overheard them talking about you in class a few times. They thought the writing thing was cute, and they discussed how they would make out with you.”

“More importantly, you’re attractive to me,” Thomas contributes, looking a bit tense and frankly jealous. “Not just because of your looks, but your personality as well. I like that you’re soft and gentle; it’s what makes you, you, and there needs to be more people like you in the world. People that aren’t full of toxic masculinity like Lee is.” After a few more minutes of Thomas, Puck, and me comforting Ralph, he finally manages to calm down, and he and Thomas wish Puck and me good night as they leave the room.

“Well, I should probably be heading back,” I tell Puck after a moment of awkward silence passes between us.

“You sure?” I nod my head.

“You said it earlier; we’re breaking curfew. I know what Jeff said, but I don’t want to press my luck after what happened last week.”

“Alright.” I get up off Puck’s bed, and he stops me momentarily to give me a hug and a quick kiss.

“Sweet dreams, Tara,” he whispers in my ear. He lets me go, and I walk out of the room. Unfortunately, I get stopped before I get very far down the hallway.

“Well, well, well, it looks like someone’s being a little rule-breaker,” Bella calls out to me. She’s leaning against her bedroom door, and the sight of her sends chills down my spine, making me freeze where I’m at.

“I…I…” I stutter. Bella smirks.

“You were in Puck’s room, weren’t you? Giving yourself to him, letting him do whatever he wanted to you?”

“N-No. I mean, yes, I was in Puck’s room, but it wasn’t like that---”

“Does it matter?” she asks. “It’s past curfew, and you aren’t in your room. That’s enough to get you punished, I’m sure.” Her smirk turns into a grin, but it’s far from friendly. She walks up to me, and my mind is screaming at my body to run. However, I find myself remaining exactly where I’m at when she murmurs,

“Of course, if you cooperate with me, I don’t have to tell Jeff a thing. I can pretend I never saw you. But, you have to give me what I want first. You know, you scratch my back…” Bella forcibly guides me to the wall and puts her hands under my shirt.

“…and I scratch yours.”

“Get off me,” I gasp. Bella reaches for the back of my bra and starts fiddling with the clasp.

“Bella, stop,” I tell her, more assertive this time.

“Not until I’m finished,” she replies, slightly irritated. I try pushing her off me, but she only responds by pressing herself on top of me and forcing her lips onto mine. She’s easily four inches taller than me and has way more upper body strength. As I struggle to come up with my next move, Bella undoes my bra, moves it out of the way, and starts messing around with my breasts.

This is wrong oh so wrong she isn’t stopping why isn’t she stopping I’ve told her no and yet she keeps going it doesn’t look like she’s going to stop anytime soon what do I do what do I do what do I do….

“Bella, stop!” I yell at her as I start hitting her back as hard as I could. “Get off me!”

“You will do what you’re told,” Bella responds angrily. She goes back to kissing me, and her hands move away from my breasts and start undoing my jeans. I’m absolutely terrified to the point where I start wondering if it would be easier to just let her do whatever she wants to me; it’s obvious she’s dead set on touching me sexually. Somehow, despite these emotions, I still end up shouting, 

“STOP! DON’T TOUCH ME!” I start kicking my legs in order to ward her off, but she manages to get the button undone and my jeans unzipped. Before she can drag them down too far, though, I hear Puck growl,

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Bella turns her attention to Puck, and she’s distracted long enough for me to push Bella out of the way and run towards Puck.

“How dare you?” Bella yells at Puck. “We were just getting started, you prick! She was begging for me to touch her!”

“Last time I checked, ‘stop, don’t touch me’ is a pretty clear sign that someone doesn’t want to be touched, you bitch!” Puck snaps back. I can feel a migraine start to form as Puck and Bella verbally attack each other, and it fully manifests itself when Louis’s voice pierces the air with,

“What in the actual fuck is going on out here? It’s pushing eleven o’clock! You’re going to wake the entire corridor up with the amount of noise you’re making!” Louis shouting at the three of us is the final straw for me, and I start sobbing before I register they were even tears in my eyes to begin with. Bella and Puck start talking over each other, and Louis quickly scolds them to stop.

“This would go a lot easier if everyone went one at a time,” he tells us. “Now, Tara, what are you doing up here past curfew? Last I remembered, your room’s a couple floors below us.”

“I…I…” I’m such an emotional wreck that I’m finding it extremely difficult to piece a coherent thought together.

“You don’t have to talk. Just nod or shake your head, okay?” I nod my head, grateful that Louis’s not forcing me to talk.

“Were you in Puck’s room?” Nod.

“Were you guys doing anything sexual?” I shake my head.

“So, you were just having a nice, wholesome evening with him?” Nod.

“This isn’t even fair!” Bella exclaims. Louis glares at her briefly before focusing his attention on Puck.

“Is Tara telling the truth?” Louis asks him.

“She didn’t even say anything!” Bella blurts out.

“Bella, you’re on thin ice,” Louis warns. “I’d wait to speak if I were you.” Louis then repeats his question to Puck, and Puck recounts our evening, including the part when Ralph and Thomas pop in after their date went south. As Puck and Louis are talking, everything slowly starts fading away, and I start panicking as my mind replays what Bella did to me. I don’t even register that Louis’s moved on to Bella until I hear him ask her,

“She told you to stop, and yet you kept going?”

“Multiple times, but it’s all part of the game,” she answers. “She was just playing hard to get; I knew she wanted it.” I frantically shake my head no, which causes him to briefly glance over at me. 

“Do you realize just how badly you’ve fucked up this evening?” Louis asks coldly, putting his full attention back on Bella.

“Puck and Tara---” This causes Louis to snap.

“I don’t care what they did. This isn’t about what they did behind closed doors. They weren’t disturbing anyone, and it would have remained that way if you didn’t stick your little nose in their business and decided it would be a lovely idea to force yourself onto Tara. So, The Sparrows aren’t attending practice tomorrow.”

“Are you serious?!” Bella nearly screeches. “They stayed up past curfew---”

“So did you,” Louis and Puck respond at the same time. They exchange a look, and Puck sheepishly grins. Am I missing something?

“Well, their band shouldn’t attend practice, either! It’s only fair!”

“I can’t make that call; their band’s not in my group. Although, I have a feeling Jeff and Harry would be very lenient towards them, considering that Tara got assaulted and Puck was trying to protect her from you hurting her any further.” The word “assaulted” repeats in my head over and over again, and I find myself clinging onto Puck in order to prevent the word from completely drowning me.

“Of course you would say that, you fucking rat.” Bella spits out the last word and stares at Louis, daring him to explode in anger. Puck tenses up, and he looks like he’s experiencing déjà vu for some reason. Meanwhile, Louis’s face goes completely neutral.

“What did you just call me?” he asks her, his voice eerily calm. Oh shit; he’s LIVID.

“You heard me,” Bella taunts. “Only a rat would stick up for those losers. Surely you’ve wanted to make someone completely submit to you?” Louis glares at Bella and doesn’t say anything for a hot minute. 

“Congratulations; you just got your band disqualified,” he then nearly snarls. “It’s a shame, really; you were among the top bands here.”

“Are you shitting me?” Bella shouts. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Lou---”

“If you don’t walk back to your room in the next five seconds, I will grab you and take you there myself so that I can have the pleasure of watching you pack your bags. Have fun explaining to your bandmates why they’ll no longer be competing.” Bella looks like she’s going to argue again, but Louis starts counting.

“One. Two. Three---” Bella turns away from the three of us and stomps back to her room in a huff. At this point, I feel like I’m shaking violently. I honestly don’t know how I’m still upright. I start panicking again, and the next thing I know we’re in Louis’s room. Puck’s got an arm wrapped around me, and we’re sitting on the edge of the bed across from Louis, who’s sitting on the desk chair.

“I’m going to have to tell Jeff and Harry about what happened tonight,” Louis tells us. He’s trying to sound soft, but there’s an edge to his voice.

“Before I do, however, I need to ask you guys a serious question,” he continues. “Do you think you’ll be able to continue competing for this show?”

“I want to stay,” I blurt out. “I don’t want to throw this opportunity away; we’ve worked too hard to just give up now.” Louis faintly smiles.

“I admire your tenacity, Tara,” he replies. Sighing, he adds,

“I also don’t want you to push yourself too much. I saw you panicking severely out in the corridor, and I’m not sure if you’ll be able to deal with the stress from this competition on top of that. That isn’t a judgement on you; I’d be feeling this way towards anyone in your situation. I’m sure Jeff and Harry would agree with me.”

“Tara, if we need to go home, then we’ll do it,” Puck whispers to me. “None of us would be upset at you if you felt like that would be the best option. Thomas and Ralph would completely understand.”

“Puck, no,” I reply. “We have to stay. If we go home, it’ll be because we get eliminated, not because y’all are scared of me having a nervous breakdown or something. I know how much this experience means to you, and I don’t want to force you to say goodbye to it.”

“Alright, then,” Louis chimes in. “I’ll let them know in the morning. However, I’m going to also suggest to them that if Pink World stays in the competition, then either you or Puck needs to change floors.”

“Why?” I ask him. Puck, meanwhile, nods his head in acknowledgement.

“I’ll do it,” he responds.

“Wait, what? Why are we talking about someone moving to a different room?”

“Tara, I’m not stupid,” Louis responds. “I know there’s been something happening between the two of you for a while now. Even if I didn’t, the way you held onto Puck this evening tells me a lot. You need him to be physically close to you right now, and I’d feel a lot better if you two were on the same floor. Ideally, I’d put you in the same room, but I don’t think Jeff’s willing to go that far, even with you two.”

“So, what do we do tonight?” Puck asks. 

“Well, since Tara’s up here, she might as well stay in your room until the morning. I’ll tell Jeff that I gave you permission due to the circumstances.”

Puck closes his bedroom door behind him. As he’s going through his suitcase for some pajamas, my mind starts spinning. Even though I know there’s very little I can do to change the situation, there’s a part of me that’s viciously beating me up for what Bella did to me. If only I wished Puck goodnight as he was channel surfing. If only I hadn’t forced Puck to watch a silly movie with me. If only I had continued walking when Bella initially called out to me instead of freezing---

“Tara,” Puck states softly, tossing a plain blue tee and gray sweatpants at me. “Go change in the bathroom.” Once I return to the main part of the room, Puck’s sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Puck?” I ask. “Is everything alright?”

“Tell me what you want or need me to do,” he responds.

“What do you mean?”

“If you want me to hold you, then I can certainly do that; if you just need me to be nearby while you sleep in the spare bed, that’s fine, too. I can do whatever you need me to do, Tara.” At first, I want Puck to cuddle me. I really do. The more I think about it, though, the more Bella’s actions replay in my head, and I no longer want him to be that close to me. 

“I think I need some space,” I whisper, choking on tears. Puck nods his head.

“I understand. I’ll be here if you need anything.”


	22. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: drug-related relapse

November

Jeff’s arranged another outing for the remaining bands, this time to Malibu Beach. Niall’s dragged Liam into a bar somewhere near the beach, and the only time Louis’s spoken a word to me since our fight was the morning after---

It won’t do me any good to think about it; I already regret things as it is. So, I have no choice but to spend the day with Lindsey. Surprisingly, she doesn’t protest when I suggest to her that we walk around the shopping center near the beach. She’s very much a beach girl at heart. As we stroll through the different shops, we make small talk, and it’s actually quite…pleasant. It’s almost like it was when we were first getting to know each other.

“I’ve started reading that one book you recommended me,” she tells me as we exit a store called Maxfield.

“Which one?” I ask.

“Love is a Mixtape,” she answers. “It’s really sweet, but also quite sad.”

“That book holds a special place in my heart. I’ve talked to Rob a few times. Lovely man.”

“Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever wanted to make someone a mixtape?”

“Yeah, many times. I’ve made playlists for my mum and sister as well as some of my closest friends.”

“What about someone you were in a relationship with?”

Why, Harry? Why is it that even the simplest of questions conjure HER up in your mind? You’ve burned that bridge when you insulted her, and now she’s with---

“Once or twice,” I reply, forcing my brain to shut up. The rest of the day was calm, yet nice. Lindsey and I end up eating at Café Habana in the mid-afternoon, and as we head back to the hotel for the evening, I actually consider starting things back up with her. I mean, yes, she threw some pretty nasty insults at me the last go-around, but she was also under the influence of cocaine more times than not. Since she’s appeared to have stopped, Lindsey’s nearly back to the person she was when I initially met her: sweet, intelligent, funny, and fairly grounded, not to mention wonderful in bed.

“I’ll be in the restroom for a bit,” I tell her once we return to my room.

“Alright,” she calls out as I shut the bathroom door behind me. I pull out my phone and scroll through Instagram as I do my business on the toilet. Once I’ve flushed and washed my hands, I return to the main part of the room, and my mood crashes faster than the stock market preceding the American Great Depression.

Lindsey’s sitting in front of the desk, preparing a white line with my credit card.

“I thought you said you stopped,” I murmur, struggling to hold back my anger. Lindsey jumps at the sound of my voice, messing up her line.

“Harry, it’s not what it looks like---”

“Bullshit,” I interrupt. “I’ve been to too many parties to not know what you’re doing. You lied to me.” The more I talk, the more my anger starts rising up my body.

“Harry, listen, I tried to stop, I really did,” Lindsey rambles. “I started cleaning myself up a few weeks after you left, and I was even in the process of signing up for a rehab group when I got the call for the photoshoot you caught me in the middle of, but a couple days ago while you were out, I was watching a movie that had someone snorting up a line, and I began feeling a really strong urge. I tried to block it out of my mind, but it only got stronger, and so I ended up meeting with an old friend, and he gave me a bag. Harry, I’m so sorry, I really am.” As soon as she apologizes to me, something in my mind snaps, and all of the emotions I’ve kept bottled up for the past couple weeks flood my thoughts: regret, fury, frustration, jealousy, guilt, angst, everything.

“Fuck you,” I utter in a deep voice that resonates through my head.

“Harry, listen---”

“Get your shit and get out.”

“There’s enough for us to share---”

“Lindsey, I don’t want to get high with you; I want you to leave! Do you know what I’ve risked bringing you here?”

“I’ve seen you’ve remained a washed-out narcissist,” she argues, grabbing the bag of cocaine and throwing it into her open suitcase.

“And you’re the same toxic bitch I was with when I left for the show.”

“Well, at least I’m not drooling over someone I’m supposed to be judging.”

“Who the fuck told you that?” I yell.

“Does it matter?” She finishes throwing her clothes in her suitcase, zips up her suitcase, and walks towards the door. Right before she opens it, she retorts,

“I hope you realize just how much of a miserable excuse of a human being you are.”

“Over the past couple months, you’ve studied the history of popular rock music; now, it’s time to apply everything you’ve learned into one challenge,” Jeff tells the remaining four bands in my group the next day. “And what better way to do that than to create a musical?” Everyone starts chattering excitingly, but I can barely keep my eyes open. My thoughts prevented me from getting much sleep last night.

“Since there are fourteen bands remaining, the musical will be divided into two acts of seven songs each,” Jeff continues. “One band from each act will be eliminated, which means by the end of this two week-long challenge, fourteen will be down to twelve. Going forward, two bands will get eliminated each challenge until we get to our final four.” Excitement turns to nervousness, and I don’t blame them. I was pretty anxious when things started getting more intense on the X Factor.

“Oh, one more thing before I let you guys loose for practice,” Jeff adds. “On Wednesday, your mentors will be swapping groups for the day; that way, you can get someone else’s perspective. Your assigned song is waiting for you in your practice rooms.” With that, the bands scatter throughout the building to start practicing, and Jeff ushers me into an empty room and shuts the door behind us.

“Are you okay, Harry?” he asks me quietly. “You look like you’re practically asleep.”

“I had a rough night,” I reply. Jeff nods his head.

“Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit disconnected, like you’re lost in that big brain of yours. I feel like you’ve been keeping some things from me, which wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if it wasn’t negatively impacting your job. So, as your manager and, more importantly, as your friend, I’d like to know what’s going on.” I sigh. In the back of my mind, I’ve known this confrontation was coming; I’ve just not wanted it to happen quite this soon. If Jeff wants something, he’s going to get it, which can really suck depending on what he wants.

“Harry, the quicker we can get this done, the sooner we can go help your bands.”

“I know,” I tell him. “I’m just trying to figure out where to begin.”

“Do you still have feelings for Tara?” I hesitate. He didn’t seem too upset when I first told him about her during the 70s challenge, but I’m still scared to open up entirely about that situation.

“Listen, whatever you say will stay in this room and between us,” Jeff comforts. “I just want to know what’s going on so that I can help you.”

“Yes,” I respond. “I do. I’ve tried to distance myself from anything I’ve felt towards Tara. I originally thought that if I acted cold towards her that she’d get over me, rush over to Puck, and then I could focus on the show.”

“And Louis.”

“And Louis,” I repeat.

“Obviously, something changed in that plan, because otherwise you wouldn’t have called me while we were at Manhattan Beach.”

“This is going to sound silly, but I saw them kiss,” I mumble.

“Puck and Tara, you mean?” I nod.

“In that moment, I let my jealousy get the best of me, and I wasn’t thinking straight. Not really.”

“I tried to talk you out of calling Lindsey, but you weren’t having it. Hell, I was about to suggest you talk to Louis when you hung up on me! I know how close you guys were becoming again; you told me yourself.”

“The truth is, I wasn’t thinking about Louis at the time. All I was thinking about was distracting myself from Tara, and I was so focused on keeping the public placated that I didn’t even consider other solutions.”

“And?”

“Louis called me after you had a conversation with him, I went up to his room, and we had a vicious fight where I said things to him that I regret saying. The only time’s he’s spoken to me since was to tell me what happened to Tara, which has also been weighing on my mind. To top it all off, I was actually thinking of getting back with Lindsey because during our trip to Malibu yesterday. She acted like she did when I first met her, but then I saw her getting ready to snort a line of cocaine. That was my breaking point, and I told her to leave.”

“Sounds like you’ve been going through it,” Jeff responds. “Do you want to know what I would do?”

“Sure.”

“Talk to Louis and patch things up with him.”


	23. Puck

This rock musical thing has me stressed out, so you can imagine how I’m feeling when I wake up Wednesday morning. You see, the name of the musical is “Poison”, and it centers around a romantic relationship gone toxic. This concept alone hasn’t exactly put me in the greatest mood. Even though it’s probably just a coincidence, part of me feels like this is a sick joke being played against me, especially since The Stony Badgers and Sofia are (surprisingly) still in this competition.

Then, there’s Tara. Once again, she’s having trouble channeling the right energy into her performance. This time, however, she doesn’t have to be extremely angsty; instead, she has to be seductive and dominant in her performance. You see, we’re responsible for introducing the girl into the story by covering Halestorm’s “Mz. Hyde”. Basically, Tara has to act like Bella on stage, which I know isn’t sitting very well with Tara.

When we arrive in our practice room after breakfast Wednesday, we’re surprised to find a note sitting on the table where our lunch normally sits.

“Who do you think it’s from?” Ralph cautiously asks as Thomas snatches the note off the table while the rest of us are tuning our guitars.

“Whoever it is, they’ve got some pretty messy handwriting,” Thomas nonchalantly replies. “Believe me; my penmanship is pretty dreadful on a good day.” He quickly scans the note and then quietly whistles.

“Our afternoon just got pretty interesting,” he murmurs.

“Let us in on your secrets, Einstein,” I tease. “What’s it saying?” Thomas dramatically clears his throat, and I’m already a bit nervous about the possible contents of the note. What if Sofia’s up to one of her dirty pranks, or someone’s tired of seeing our faces and they want us gone? Possibilities churn in my brain as Thomas reads,

PW,

Heard you were having trouble and decided to offer some guidance. Figured that my insight might help you out in more ways than one. Might get a bit wild, but it’ll be worth it in the end.

See you this afternoon.

“Who’s it from?” Tara asks once Thomas is done reading.

“No idea,” he replies. “There’s just a smiley face with x’s for eyes at the end of the note.”

“Louis,” I mumble, my insides turning into slush. “That’s one of his signature tattoos; it has to be him.” On top of the emotions that tumble around whenever Louis pops into my head, I also have a nasty suspicion as to what exactly Louis’s “insight” is, considering the story he told me on his hotel balcony the first night we were here.

To say that I’m thankful when lunch rolls around is an understatement. I’ve had a hard time focusing all morning, and it shows. Even Ralph’s started razzing me by the time food gets dropped off, and he’s usually the most understanding. All three of my bandmates are probably assuming that the fanboy in me has made an appearance, which is fine by me. I’ve kept my word with Louis through this point; no one else knows about what he likes to do in the bedroom or who he likes to do it with, and I thought it would remain that way. Obviously, some of that’s about to change really soon.

Midway through my chicken sandwich from a fast-food joint, there’s a quick rapping on the ajar door. Glancing up, I see a rather cheerful Louis standing in the doorway, wearing a 90s-inspired purple tracksuit.

“Hey man,” Thomas greets, oblivious to the fact that my stomach is churning. “You want some food? I think there’s a spare burger somewhere.”

“Maybe later,” Louis replies. He peers down the hallway quickly before stepping in the room and shutting the door behind him. This isn’t good at all. The last time our door got closed, it was because Jeff didn’t want random people overhearing our conversation, and the topic, while embarrassing, was pretty tame. Louis, on the other hand…

“I take it you guys got my note?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice cracking. Louis looks over at me with concern, and I clear my throat and gulp down some water from my bottle.

“Frog in my throat,” I lie. I know Louis sees through it, but thankfully he doesn’t press me further.

“Niall, Harry, Liam, and I were allowed the opportunity to spend the afternoon with a band we thought needed the most assistance,” he continues. “Harry’s trying to save one of Niall’s lost causes, Liam’s attempting to shape up one of my bands to fill The Sparrows’ spot, and Niall…well, he’s with Liam’s bands.”

“And you’re with us,” Thomas interjects. “Why?”

“What about Stripes?” Ralph asks. “They’ve been coasting by this competition.”

“Or Dark Galaxy, since they’re our biggest competition, or even The Stony Badgers, since they’re our greatest enemy?” I add before Louis can get a word in and I can stop myself. “Surely, our elimination would make your love life easier.” I don’t know where that thought came from, but it’s definitely hit a sore spot. Frustration flashes through Louis’s eyes, and he’s about to snap back at me when Tara responds softly,

“Let him answer.” Up to this point in the conversation, she’s been silent, so her question causes the four of us to look at her. Louis sighs.

“Thank you, Tara,” he says begrudgingly. “Now, if I’m allowed to talk, I’m here with you guys because I want to see this band in the finale. Not sure if I’m supposed to say that, but it’s true. It’s going to be a bit difficult for you to do that if you don’t sell this song, because we’re going to start cracking down on everyone’s performances from here on out. I’ve heard some things through the grapevine, but I want to see and hear you for myself. So, situate yourselves the way you normally would and take it from the top.”

Not gonna lie, Louis telling us that he wants to see this band in the finale has me a bit nervous, and I know it showed as I was playing. Although, I can’t imagine anyone not being a bit frazzled if and after their idol gives them that kind of compliment. I’m too caught up in my head to really pay attention to how the others are doing. Clearly, Louis isn’t, because once we finish the song, he addresses each of us individually, starting with me.

“Puck, quit being nervous around me. It doesn’t do good things to your performance. Ralph, I know it’s difficult to feel confident when you’re in the background, but you have to try. You did okay, but I believe you can do better than just okay; you’ve done it before. Thomas, keep up the good work, and give your friends here some pointers while I go out for a smoke. Tara, you’re coming with me. I need to talk to you in private.” It’s only when I see how shocked Tara is that I realize what Louis’s just requested.

“Why do you need to talk to her alone?” I ask, suspicious of his intentions. “Can’t you just tell her what she needs to do here?” Ignoring me, he tells Tara to follow him out, and the two of them leave the room, leaving me with a confused Ralph and a surprised Thomas.


	24. Tara

Louis and I head out to the back of the building, I guess to avoid paparazzi or something. I'm not sure. We hang around near the door, and Louis offers me a cigarette. While there's a small part of me that wants to accept it, I end up politely declining.

"It's probably better that you didn't, anyway," Louis responds. He lights his cigarette and puffs on it before adding,

"You probably don't want lung cancer or emphysema or people up your ass, anyway." He finishes the sentence with such disdain that I'm compelled to reply,

"Just because I don't smoke doesn't mean that I have a problem with smokers. Everyone has something that they're addicted to, and you could be a lot worse off. Besides, I think a lot of people who are against others smoking are selfish assholes." Louis's trying to hold back a laugh, but I can tell he's amused by my statement. He takes another drag of his cigarette before he speaks again.

"As much as it would be very entertaining to let you keep talking about how people are assholes, there's a more important reason why I wanted to chat with you in private. I kinda had a hunch about this based on some things that I've heard, but you're the one that needs my help the most." Well, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? Not saying that it isn't true, because I know it is, but just hearing someone confirm that has me thinking, 

Ouch. That stings.

"You're intimidated by the song, aren't you?" Louis asks kindly, bringing me out of my head and back to the conversation. How did he know? I haven't told anyone that. I mean, I think Puck suspects that I'm scared to perform this song, but suspecting something is different than knowing something, and Louis's tone indicates to me that he already knows the answer to his question and is simply waiting on me to tell him the truth.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I am. Ever since...you know---"

"I know. Even with her gone, you still feel powerless against her. You're not as sure of yourself as you once were. You don't think you're capable of singing this song the way it's supposed to be sung."

"Okay, shrink." I try to smirk, but my heart isn't exactly in it. The fact that Louis can pull all that out of me without me saying a word makes me feel...guilty?

"Sorry," he tells me. "Probably should have warned you first. I've learned to read people from years of observing them from hiding in the background. You can ask Ralph about it; he'll know what I'm talking about."

"It's okay. Can't exactly get mad over the truth, can I?"

"There are a lot of people that would disagree with you, but I think you're on the right track."

"So, how do I not feel powerless?" Louis smiles thinly before puffing on his cigarette.

"Ultimately, the answer rests with you; you have to allow yourself to feel confident again. However, I might be able to help you get started."

"How?" His thin smile turns into a grin.

"First, by telling you a story." Before I can laugh at Louis, he launches into his tale.

"Once upon a time, there was a guy in a hotel room in New York. He'd just gotten back from helping judge auditions for the most anticipated music competition in the country."

"Where is this going?" I ask, suspecting who the guy in Louis's story might be.

"You'll see," Louis replies, slightly mischievous. "Anyway, this guy ordered room service, changed out of his clothes, and turned on the telly, and he'd just gotten settled in his bed when his cell phone rings. It's his old bandmate, who was currently in Ohio doing the same thing as him."

"Judging auditions, you mean." This story's about Louis; it has to be.

"Yeah. Now, if you would quit interrupting me, I can finish telling this story much faster." I apologize quickly, amused by Louis's storytelling skills.

"When the guy in New York answered the phone, his old bandmate in Ohio was quite dazed on the other end," Louis continues. "He goes on to tell the guy in New York about a girl who auditioned that day. This girl was magical, for her stare had the power to put people in a trance. Whoever looked into her eyes would instantly become enraptured by her, even after she turned away and focused on something else."

"W-What did the guy in New York think?" Harry told Louis about my little stunt during the Midwest auditions? That was meant to be a joke based on Harry's public persona; I didn't mean for Harry to become infatuated from it!

"He thought his bandmate was full of it. He didn't tell his bandmate this, of course, but that was how he felt. But then he watched the girl perform, and he understood what his bandmate meant." Neither Louis nor I say anything for a few moments. Louis smokes his cigarette, leaving me alone with my thoughts. There's so much that I want to ask Louis, but unfortunately there's not that much time. I can't spend the entire afternoon out here with him; Pink World still needs to practice. Eventually, I settle on this question:

"What exactly is the point of that story?" Louis takes one last drag of his cigarette before smushing it into the ground.

"You have it in you to be Hyde; you just have to give yourself permission to not be Jekyll for a bit."

"Huh?" Louis shakes his head.

"I was trying to make a pun, since you're performing a song called 'Mz. Hyde'. Guess I'll leave the jokes to Harry. How about this: you have the ability to be a rock vixen on stage. All you have to do is set your doubts and fears aside, even if it's only long enough to perform the song. Now, come on; your bandmates are waiting for us inside."

The rest of practice is a blur as Louis gives the band pointers both for this challenge and future performances. Before I know it, we're all back at the hotel, and Puck's following me to my room. As we were packing up to leave practice, he whispers to me that he wanted to talk to me in private. I will say, hanging out with him has been a lot easier since he moved down to my floor. Ralph and Thomas seemed relieved when we parted ways when we arrived at the hotel earlier; perhaps they want to spend some time alone, too.

When Puck and I are inside my room, I walk over to my suitcase to grab some pjs; however, before I can find something, Puck stops me by quietly uttering my name. His voice sounds the way it did after we met Bella for the first time: soft and strangely deep. It compels me to turn around and face him.

"Whatever Louis told you outside must have done something to you," he tells me in the same tone of voice. "I've never seen you quite so..."

"Confident?" I offer. I certainly felt that way after my conversation with Louis.

"Sexy." I make an amused noise in the back of my throat. Out of all the words in the English dictionary, "sexy" is far from what I'd describe myself as.

"Laugh all you want, but it's true," Puck retorts. "Watching you was extraordinary."

"You know what else would be extraordinary? Kissing me." Maybe there's some residual energy left in me from practice with Louis and I'm feeling extra confident, or maybe I've just lost my mind. Whatever the case may be, my reply shocks the hell out of me; it's like my filter has left completely. Things get even stranger when Puck, instead of looking at me strangely or teasing me about how gun-ho I'm acting, responds with,

"Can I kiss you?" 

"Sure," I whisper, becoming less sure of myself. What have I done? I mean, it's sweet that Puck asked, given what happened between me and Bella, but I still feel like this situation is a bit strange. Before my thoughts can run too far away from me, Puck steps closer to me and gently kisses me. Instinct takes over, and I kiss him back. Soon, we're making out, but in a soft, deep, and gradual sort of way. Kinda like Puck's voice a few minutes ago.

"Get on the bed," I murmur, taking a momentary break. As much as I enjoy kissing my boyfriend, I don't want to end up with sore feet and a stiff back from standing for too long. 

Wait.

Did I just call Puck my boyfriend?

Oblivious to anything going on inside my head, Puck obliges. I situate myself in front of him so that I'm sitting in his lap. We resume kissing, and from there time starts slipping away. At some point, we lose our shirts, but I don't remember either one of us taking them off. Puck's caressing my back, and my hands are resting on Puck's shoulders. I'm sure anyone looking at the two of us right now would be rolling their eyes as they relentlessly tease us. 

In this moment in time, though, I really don'tcare what other people think of how Puck and I are acting.


	25. Harry

December

Saturday

This is it. We’re finally here: the last challenge before the big finale. About time. I’m more than ready to leave this hotel behind. Too many bad memories here, a lot of them my own making.

Per Jeff’s advice, I’ve slowly started to patch things up with Louis, and we’re currently maintaining a steady friendship. I kinda wish that our relationship could progress faster, but I also understand that Louis is going to need a lot of time to trust me fully again. Even if I constantly shower Louis with compliments, he’ll still remember the time where I took one of his deepest insecurities and used it to insult him. 

Anyway, today marks the start of the semi-finale. There’s eight bands remaining--two in each group--and Liam, Niall, Louis, and I each have to say goodbye to one of our bands, cutting the competition in half. The bands have to cover two songs as usual, but there are some twists. Firstly, both songs are being performed on Friday instead of getting split between two weeks. Second, the bands basically have to create these covers from scratch, since the challenge requires them to transform pop, country, RnB, or rap songs into unique rock tunes. One of the songs has to be one originally sung by One Direction, either while we were together or solo. Zayn’s discography is fair game.

The two bands remaining in my group, unsurprisingly, are the two strongest ones: Dark Galaxy and Pink World. The competition between them is so tight that I don’t know if I can choose between them; both bands are truly outstanding. In order to even begin to decide which band advances to the finale, I choose to spend the morning with Dark Galaxy and the afternoon with Pink World. So, when everyone arrives at Royal Rehearsal, I follow Dark Galaxy into their practice room. 

“So tell me, what do you guys listen to outside of rock?” I ask the band once we’re settled down. I already have a couple songs in mind for them, but I want their opinion. After all, they’re the ones going on stage.

“Sam Smith,” Patrick blurts out. “The way he hits those high notes is simply beautiful. Justin Timberlake is also pretty cool.”

“Don’t forget Shawn Mendes,” Brody replies. 

“Seriously, dude? You still like Shawn Mendes?” Patrick asks.

“What’s wrong with liking him?”

“Oh my god, not this again,” Lee loudly groans. “If I have to hear you guys argue about Shawn Mendes one more time, I swear to God—"

“Bring it back in,” I tell Dark Galaxy. Over the past few weeks, he’s been getting testier with his bandmates, and I’m not sure why. All I know is that if they don’t talk things over soon, there’s going to be some serious blowout. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience.

“Going back to Harry’s question, I listen to Troye Sivan,” Lee continues snobbishly. “Sometimes Ed Sheeran if I feel like it.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Dylan just rolled his eyes at Lee. He’s come out of his shell since he basically became the frontman of Dark Galaxy, and I’ve learned that he has very little time for arrogant people. In fact, I think he was the most pleased to see The Stony Badgers get eliminated, even when accounting for Pink World’s beef with them.

“This might sound a bit weird, considering how my other bandmates answered, but sometimes I like listening to Madonna,” Dylan quietly responds. He rushes to add,

“Not the cheesy songs like ‘Like a Virgin’ or ‘Material Girl’, of course. I can’t stand those.” A couple ideas start forming in my head. Both options would force them to think outside the box a bit, but in my opinion, that’s kinda what this challenge is designed to do.

“Well, I like the sound of Troye Sivan and Madonna,” I tell the band. “Both would be interesting for you guys to cover, considering that Troye tends to be softer and Madonna more bubblegum than what you normally gravitate towards.”

“‘EASE’ and ‘COOL’ are pretty upbeat, instrumental-wise,” Lee immediately replies. “It should be fairly simple to turn those songs into rock ones.”

“Yeah, but ‘Like a Prayer’ already has a really sweet guitar riff in the beginning, and we can build off that,” Seth, previously silent, tells Lee. After going back and forth between Madonna and Troye Sivan for several minutes, the band finally agrees to cover ‘COOL’ by Troye Sivan.

“So, now we have to decide what One Direction tune to cover,” Seth replies. 

“Your stuff is out of the question,” Tara tells me. It took the rest of the morning for Dark Galaxy to decide what One Direction-themed song to cover, but they ended up going with what I kinda figured they would go for, which is “There You Are” by Zayn. He and Dylan have a pretty similar vocal range, so it shouldn’t be too challenging for Dylan to be successful with that song.

“She does have a point, Harry,” Puck responds, seeing how taken aback I am by how blunt Tara’s statement is. “You’re a rock artist. We’d practically be cheating if we covered one of your songs.” Pink World’s already chosen their freestyle song, and I think it’s an interesting choice because as far as I’m aware of, the band’s never sung anything like this before. Then again, Pink World has taken some pretty big risks throughout the course of the competition, and it’s clearly paid off; otherwise, they wouldn’t be here. Still, the idea of Puck singing “Party Monster” by The Weeknd while his bandmates are playing behind him is a bit baffling to me. The Weeknd seems more up Liam’s alley than anyone else’s.

“We could cover a song from when One Direction was together,” Ralph suggests. “I mean, they do have five albums; I’m sure we could find something in their discography that we would like to cover.”

“Especially since the sound of our music evolved so much from our first album to our last,” I add. “Personally, I think it would be interesting to hear one of our early songs transformed into a solid rock hit.”

“I’m not too familiar with your early work,” Thomas reveals. “All I know is ‘What Makes You Beautiful’, and I think that’s too obvious of a choice.”

“Basically, their first two albums have the same bubblegum pop sound as ‘What Makes You Beautiful’,” Tara replies before I have a chance to speak. “And the lyrics…” She trails off, trying and failing to prevent a smirk forming on her face.

“What about the lyrics, Tara?” I lightly mock, challenging her to banter. She looks me dead in the eyes as she answers,

“Let’s be real: some of them are downright cringy.”

“Name one.”

“You’re so pretty when you cry.”

“Nobody Compares, right?” Puck asks. To be completely honest, if it weren’t for Puck mentioning the name of the song, I would have no idea where the lyric Tara mentioned came from. I know, I know, I should remember all of the songs I performed with the band like a good little boy band member, but when you’re recording and touring practically non-stop, some of the tracks slip through the cracks. Even with Puck mentioning the song title, I’m only getting hazy memories of concerts from 2012. Wasn’t that song a deluxe-only track?

“Yeah. Don’t even get me started on ‘Gotta Be You’, AKA, ‘The Song Where Liam Swallows A Dictionary in Order to Seem Smarter Than He Actually Is’.” This comment causes Ralph to bust out laughing, and momentarily Puck, Tara, and I are stunned into silence. In addition to the fact that I’ve never heard Ralph laugh before, I’m also shocked by just how lovely his laugh sounds. Apparently, so are Tara and Puck. Unsurprisingly, Thomas seems to be the least taken aback by it, but judging by the way he’s blushing, I think Ralph’s laugh does something to his emotions.

“So, is there anything from our early days that you like, or is bubblegum pop too good for you, Tara?” I playfully tease, trying to take the heat off Ralph.

“I do like a few songs,” Tara answers. “Just because I prefer mature songs doesn’t mean that I don’t listen to bubblegum pop every now and again.”

“We could go through some of the songs and see what’s a good fit for us,” Thomas suggests. Before I can tell him that going through songs would take a lot of time that they don’t really have, he adds,

“I mean, I don’t think we’d go for the singles, since that would be too easy and obvious. Some of your later stuff can be considered rock, so naturally that’s out. Then, there’s the fact that two of our members are fans of One Direction's work, so I’m sure they already know which songs they like and dislike to a certain extent. It’s not like we have nothing to start our search on.” He does have a good point.

“Alright, fine,” I submit. “But you have to make a decision by the end of today so that you have time to practice it for Friday.” It was a bit of a struggle for Pink World to narrow down their song options, but in the end they decided to cover “I Want”, which is an interesting juxtaposition to “Party Monster”. However, if anyone could go from a heavy, mature song to a light-hearted, youthful one successfully, it would be Pink World.

Friday

The last band just finished their song five minutes ago, so I’m deliberating with the other judges while the bands await their fate. I thought that I would have figured out which band I want to advance to the finale by the time they were done performing their songs, but that ended up not being the case. Instead, my decision is even harder.

On one hand, Dark Galaxy is very strong on a technical level, and Dylan’s voice is simply heavenly. Their covers of Troye Sivan’s “COOL” and Zayn’s “There You Are” that they performed this evening could easily be played on the radio and do very well on the music charts. Over the course of the competition, the band has evolved to become a formidable force to be reckoned with, and they’ve put in more than enough time and work to deserve a spot in the finale.

Then, there’s Pink World. All four members have a whole lot of heart, and it shows in just about every single one of their performances. They’re eager to learn and try anything that gets suggested to them, and they’re seldomly afraid of going out of their comfort zone and seeing just what all they’re capable of doing, which I think is vital to a long-lasting career in the music industry. Both Puck and Tara have a powerful stage presence, and time and time again they hit it out of the ball park, tonight being no exception. I want to see them in the finale.

Then, the truth slaps me across the face: I want to see both of my bands in the finale, not just one. That idea feels right to me. But, is such a thing even possible? Could we have five bands in the finale instead of four?

“Harry, you’re being awfully quiet over there,” Liam states, pulling me out of my thoughts and into the situation in front of me. “Everything alright?” I shake my head no.

“I can’t choose between them,” I mumble. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t. They’re both deserving of a spot in the finale.” No one says anything for a couple moments as they try to process what I just told them. I look at Carson, and the two of us have a silent conversation. We reach the same conclusion. Carson then looks at Jeff, and after a minute or so Jeff nods his head.

“You know what has to be done, Harry,” Jeff tells me. “If everyone has chosen who’s advancing to the finale, are we ready to head out and tell the bands our decision?”

Dark Galaxy and Pink World are the only two bands remaining on stage. Niall’s band The Chairs, Louis’s band Ravens, and Liam’s band Firecrackers are advancing to the finale. They, in addition to the other three bands that competed this evening, are getting ready to head back to the hotel and pack their belongings. While the eliminated bands will be heading to the airport in the morning, the advancing bands will be moving into their new home during their preparation for the finale.

“I’m not going to lie, choosing between the two of you was quite challenging,” I tell my bands. “You both are extremely talented, and I want you to know that no matter what happens tonight, I am very proud of you and how much you’ve grown during this competition.” I sigh. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done by far.

“That being said, the band that will be advancing to the finale is…Dark Galaxy. Congratulations.”


	26. Puck

My heart just shattered into millions of tiny pieces. Judging by the looks of my bandmates’ faces, theirs did as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy for Dark Galaxy. Lee may be a prick, but I have to admit that the band as a whole is very strong. Still, I feel absolutely dejected. Imagine getting so close to achieving one of your goals only for everything to crumble away from and underneath you. I just want to go back to the hotel and cry. However, the band has to stick around long enough for Harry to give his goodbye speech, since Louis, Liam, and Niall did the same with their eliminated bands.

“Pink World, I want you to know that I’ve enjoyed working with you so much,” Harry tells us. I wish he would just put a sock in it. I don’t want his sympathy. If he really enjoyed working with us, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now, would we? Tara reaches for my hand, and I gently grasp hers. She’s already started crying, which is making it that much more difficult for me to keep it together. 

“You have a lot of heart, and you’ve eagerly accepted everything that I’ve taught you throughout this competition.” Wait a minute. Something’s off. Dark Galaxy hasn’t left the stage yet. When the other three advancing bands found out they were moving on to the finale, they were dismissed off the stage so that the mentors could have their moment with the eliminated bands.

“I think your journey through this industry has only just begun.” And that’s when I notice Louis in the right stage wing, smiling and winking at me like he did all those months ago when we performed in front of him in New York for the first time. Like we were sharing a secret.  
Holy shit. It can’t be…can it?

“In fact, I think that your time in this competition isn’t over just yet. Congratulations, Pink World; you’re also advancing to the finale.” That last sentence gets muffled due to my bandmates screaming joyously and Lee complaining loudly. This has to be some sort of fever dream. There’s no way this is even remotely real. Tara must be super excited, for she wraps me in a tight bear hug and gives me a passionate kiss on the lips. Well, guess the entire nation, if not the whole world, now knows of our relationship. Soon after, the four of us are in a group hug.

“Both of you performed so well tonight that you objectively tied,” Carson speaks up once we’ve quieted down. “So, it’s only fair to send the two of you through to the finale.”

“That’s a fancy way of saying that I couldn’t decide between you two,” Harry replies. “You both did such a tremendous job that I was unable to choose, and I think that’s a good problem to have.”

“Now, let’s get you guys back to the hotel so that you can get packing,” Jeff tells us. “You’re in for a long road trip tomorrow.”

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Harry jokingly says as he lets us inside his home. This multi-million dollar pad located in Beverly Hills is apparently where we’ll be staying as we prepare for the finale. My first impression of it is that it’s nice and big but also empty, like it hasn’t been lived in that much. I wonder if that sort of vibe is normal in celebrity homes.

“Now, I believe people have already gotten your rooms set up, so why don’t you guys take your stuff up and meet me in the living room in, say, an hour?” Harry requests kindly once all of us are inside. Lee storms up the stairs first, followed closely behind by a very excited Brody, Seth, and Thomas. I can already tell Thomas is going to get along great with Seth and Brody; they all have the same laid-back attitude about them. Shaking his head and sighing, Patrick heads up the stairs next, leaving me, Tara, Dylan, and Ralph behind.

“So, should we got see what our rooms look like?” Dylan asks.

“We might as well,” Ralph replies. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep a hold of my suitcase.” The four of us trudge up the stairs in a single-file line. Right when we get to the last step, Ralph’s suitcase slips out of his hands and tumbles all the way down.

“Son of a bitch,” Ralph mutters under his breath. In all the time that I’ve known Ralph, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him curse. Thankfully, Harry comes to the rescue before Ralph gets too embarrassed.

“I’ve got your suitcase,” Harry tells Ralph comfortingly. “Let’s head upstairs.”

At the moment, I’m bunking with Ralph, while Tara’s sharing a room with Thomas. Thomas and Ralph apparently also got a bit too intimate when we found out that we were advancing to the finale, so I guess this is somebody’s way of punishing us or something, although I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ll find a way around that sooner rather than later. I mean, I like Ralph and all, but it would be nice to be able to fall asleep cuddling with Tara at night, and I’m sure Ralph feels the same way regarding Thomas, so I don’t think there’d be any hard feelings. Thankfully, Ralph and Tara are in the room across from us, so it’s not like they’re that far away.

Anyway, Ralph and I set our suitcases down on the king-sized bed and start unpacking. We quickly discover that there are already clothes hanging in the closet.

“Do you think these are Harry’s?” I quietly ask Ralph. There’s a lot of expensive designer brands in this closet, and I don’t want to move and unintentionally misplace something that isn’t mine.

“Only one way to find out,” Ralph answers. He then does something pretty uncharacteristic of him: he sticks his head out of the ajar door and calls out loudly,

“Hey, Harry, what’s with the clothes in the closet? Are they yours or something?”

“Actually, they’re for you guys,” Harry answers, approaching our bedroom doorway. “Production ordered a bunch of stuff and had it shipped here, and I helped some of the crew pick out clothes via text over the last few weeks.”

“So, all the clothes in the closet are for us?” I ask. Harry nods his head.

“All of it?” Again, Harry nods.

“Are you sure?” I’ve never thought I’d be in a position to even wear designer clothing, let alone have someone gift a bunch of expensive stuff to me. This is insane!

“Yes, Puck, I’m sure,” Harry replies. “I think you guys deserve to wear something nice for your final performance on this show. Don’t you?” I’m rendered speechless. There’s a lot of high-end brands in this closet. How much did all of this cost?

“Well, is there anywhere we can store our stuff in the meantime?” Ralph asks. “Seeing how there’s not a whole lot of room in the closet to hang what’s in our suitcase?”

An hour later, everyone’s following Harry into the dining room, where a spread of healthy food awaits us at the table. Veggie burgers, mixed nuts, bowls of fruit, you name it. Knowing Harry, he probably made this all by himself, which makes me feel a little bad. I get that he was wanting to surprise us with a meal, but I would have been more than willing to help him out in the kitchen.

“No offense, man, but we seriously need to get some Taco Bell in here,” Seth complains as my band and his band each grab a seat at the table. 

“Maybe next time,” Harry replies, standing at the head of the table. “I think it will do all of us some good to have at least one healthy meal while we’re here.” I’m sitting to the right of him, and Patrick to the left. Ralph’s sitting next to me, Tara’s next to Patrick, and Thomas is in between Dylan and Brody at the other end of the table. 

“We appreciate the gesture, Harry,” I tell him to make him feel better. Truth is, I like eating vegetarian foods, and I admire people who are able to maintain that type of lifestyle long-term. Harry looks over at me, and I can tell that he’s thankful for me speaking up.

“Anyway, dig in. There’s a lot that needs to be discussed.” Harry leaves the room momentarily to go into the kitchen as people start grabbing food and talking amongst themselves, and he returns with a pretty tall glass filled with a green drink of some sort.

“Is that a smoothie?” Ralph asks Harry, who nods his head.

“Kale,” he responds.

“Do you normally have that with lunch?” I inquire. I vaguely remember reading something that revealed Harry to be a bit of a health nut, but obviously I’ve never gotten the chance to confirm that until now.

“This is my lunch,” Harry answers.

“Is that going to be enough to fill you up?” Tara and I ask at the same time, causing Harry to chuckle and Tara to blush slightly.

“There’s some protein and whey powder in this, so yes, it’ll fill me up. I like to eat light during the day so that I’m able to indulge during the evening without feeling too bad about myself.”

“Makes sense,” I tell him. A few minutes pass as we eat their lunch. Then, Harry brings everyone in from their side conversations.

“You can continue eating, but I need you guys to listen, because there’s lots of information I have to tell you,” he states. “Firstly, this will probably be the last relaxing day you’ll have for a while.” If there was ever a time for a record to scratch, it would be now. We’re about to get into some serious business, aren’t we?

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll be preparing to perform in a concert scheduled for March 14th. Jeff’s father has been kind enough to let the concert take place in his venue, The Forum. Tickets should be going on sale sometime next week.” THAT’S the final challenge? We have to perform live in front of thousands of people? I’m already starting to get nervous, and Harry’s just getting started.

“Each of the bands will perform five songs, resulting in a setlist of 25,” Harry continues. “It doesn’t matter what order you put your part of the setlist in, but there are some requirements for your song choices.” Harry holds up his left hand in a fist and raises his index finger.

One, I think to myself.

“You have to collaborate with me on one of the songs. It can be one of my tunes, or it can be a song from another artist.” He holds up the middle finger. 

Two.

“You must create a cover for a song that you’ve never performed before. Remember what you learned in the previous challenge and apply it here. Jeff told me to stress that the song you collaborate with me on cannot be used to fulfill this requirement, although I personally think that’s pretty obvious.” A couple of people quietly laugh, but I can feel my throat closing up from nerves.

Three. Four.

I’m finding it difficult to swallow, and I think I’m starting to shake.

“Two of the songs must be covers that you’ve already performed for this show, but they have to be two of your best ones.” That part doesn’t seem too bad. I have a feeling Harry’s saving the worst for last, though.

Five.

“Finally, you will have to write and record your first official single and debut it live in concert.” My mouth drops to the floor. I truly have no idea how to describe how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking right now. It’s like Harry caused several short circuits in my brain and left me fried. 

I never thought we’d get this far. All four of us risked not going to university and pursuing our original careers for this show, which was a huge risk to take. If we got cut after the first week or even the first month, we would have to wait at least a semester, if not a whole year, to enroll again. And that most definitely would have been the end of Pink World. I enjoy being in this band, but I never thought it would be a viable career option. I don’t think any of us did, if I’m being totally honest. Tara might be the only one out of the four of us that might have stuck with music. Thomas was going towards forensics, and Ralph most likely towards something related to space. As for me, I honestly don’t know what I would have gone for if I went straight to university after high school like I’d originally planned. The point is, the four of us were heading in really different directions before this show, and we would have had to break up the band eventually.

But instead, we’re staring at the potential birth of our music career. If we continue on the path that we’re currently on, we’ll no longer be a random cover band made up of students trying to fill time outside of school and work; we’ll be a legitimate rock band potentially known across the nation and maybe even the world.

Honestly, it’s daunting.


	27. Tara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: implied/mentioned underage drinking (according to US laws)  
Also, the countdown goes through chapter 30 and is based off the calendar for 2020.

January

74/73 Days Until Finale

The new year starts off with a bang, which contrasts sharply with how the previous month’s gone. The last couple weeks have been spent preparing for this finale, and honestly, it’s been quite tedious. I mean, I obviously want my band to do well, and given what all we have to do for this challenge, that’s meant devoting our entire lives to the finale. However, I’m tired of constantly practicing and preparing for the concert; I need a break. Even though we went back home the week of Christmas, when I wasn’t spending time with my family, I was still thinking about this stupid finale. Frankly, I’m sick of it.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one feeling this way. While my bandmates have tried to keep things upbeat, I can tell that they’re getting tired of always keeping their nose to the grindstone. And let’s just say Dark Galaxy hasn’t exactly been quiet about their emotions. A couple days ago, Harry finally gets it through his thick skull that we all could use a proper break. So, we decide to take the last day of December and the first day of January off to celebrate the dawn of the new year. At first, our plans just involve Harry, Dark Galaxy, and Pink World, but very quickly they expand to include the other bands in the finale, Louis, Liam, Niall, and Jeff. Harry tried to invite the other three judges, but Dave and Melissa were already invited to other New Year parties, and Carson bowed out because he was concerned that our party would become too loud and wild.

So, instead of spending the night of New Year’s Eve practicing or sleeping, everyone who’s able to attend the celebrations is crowded around Harry’s living room, about to play a game of “Never Have I Ever”. We’ve just finished eating a wonderful potluck dinner over glasses of wine, and we’re all a bit slap-happy as a result of being tipsy. Brody’s the one to suggest the game, and the only thing we’re waiting on to start playing is for Harry to join us. I’m snuggled up next to Puck on the floor with my head on his shoulder, and he has an arm wrapped around me.

Harry finally enters the living room with a couple 40 oz. bags of Rolos.

“I know that it’s more normal to do shots when playing this game, but seeing as we’ve already had quite a bit to drink this evening, I don’t want to risk any of us winding up in the hospital,” he tells us as he opens one of the bags and starts distributing candy to everyone, slightly slurring his words and stumbling as he goes. “So, we’re using Rolos instead. Everyone gets ten pieces. Once you eat the last piece, you’re out.”

“Sounds good,” Patrick replies. It takes Harry a few minutes to give the other 26 of us ten pieces of candy, but once he’s finished, he dramatically flops down on the last available spot on his gray modular couch.

“Brody, since you suggested the game, why don’t you ask the first question?” Harry asks. “We’ll go clockwise after that.”

“Sure,” Brody answers. “I’ll start off tame: never have I ever skipped school.” Immediately, Lee, Patrick, Seth, Thomas, Puck, one of the guys in Ravens, two of the guys and the girl in Firecrackers, and all of the judges present unwrap and eat a Rolo candy. 

“Well, this is off to a great start,” I giggle. From there, the game only gets wilder. Apparently, a lot of people here have gotten into some serious mischief as they were growing up. Shoplifting, graffitiing on public property, cheating on tests, running around the neighborhood naked while drunk and singing Yankee Doodle (one of the guys in Firecrackers, Marcus, actually did that for a dare during high school), you name it. For a little while, I have all ten of my Rolo candies, and some of the people with four or five pieces notice and start teasing me about it.

“Oh, look at Miss Goody-Two shoes over here,” Kyle, a member of Ravens, nearly hollers. “She still has all of her candies!”

“Even Ralph and Dylan don’t have all their candies, and they’re two of the most innocent people here!” Jessica, the drummer of The Chairs, adds.

“There has to be something that she’s done,” Lee replies. “No one is so perfect that they never do or think about anything bad.” Then, Dylan opens his mouth and makes things worse.

“Never have I ever wanted to have sex with someone in this room.” Shit. He’s got me. I’m now in a situation where I’m damned if I do and damned if I do. So, I do the only logical thing: I unwrap one of the Rolo candies, pop it in my mouth, and start chewing. Instantly, people go nuts. Thanks, Dylan.

“Told you no one is perfect,” Lee shouts out. Thankfully, I’m not the only one to eat a Rolo candy; my bandmates, Louis, Harry, and Natalie from Ravens do the same. But, no one is focusing on them. Oh, no. All their attention is on me.

“Spill the beans!” some of them plead.

“Tell us who you wanna f—” Seth starts to say.

“Guys, leave my girlfriend alone,” Puck tells everyone. Thank goodness; I felt like burying myself in a hole. People start teasing him a bit, but eventually everyone lays off and moves on to the next question. I, however, have had enough embarrassment for one evening, so I wish people goodnight and head upstairs to my room to get some sleep.

64 Days Until Finale

“So, what I think we should do to start is to give our notebook to the person sitting to the right of us and have them read what we have over,” Puck suggests. On Sunday, after a fruitless day of practice where the four of us couldn’t come up with anything for our single to save our lives, we agreed that we would spend the week writing down at least one idea for a song and present them to each other today, Friday. This single is the only requirement that we haven’t managed to fulfill yet. We have the rest of our songs picked out for our part of the setlist: Puck will be singing The Weeknd’s “Party Monster” and duetting with Harry on Carrie Underwood’s “Good Girl”, while I’ll be performing “I’m Still Standing” by Elton John and “Love Kills” by Vinnie Vincent Invasion. What we’ve quickly learned is that going through the song-writing process from the very beginning is a lot more difficult than simply putting your emotions into someone else’s work.

Currently, we’re out on the patio while Dark Galaxy are practicing in the soundproof room Harry had set up ages ago. Puck’s to the right of me, Thomas is to the left, and Ralph’s sitting across from me. So, Puck’s the one to get my notebook, while I get Thomas’. Frankly, it’s a bit terrifying that Puck’s the one with my notebook. In order to not focus too much on the tumultuous thoughts in my head, I try my best to focus on what Thomas has written:

Cliché

Two people meet and become friends. One starts developing feelings for the other, starts worrying about coming across as romantically cliché. The person cares about the other a lot but doesn’t know how to reveal that in a way that isn’t super cheesy. In the end, the person tells their friend everything and their friend reveals that they were having that same struggle.

I don’t wanna kiss in the rain/And wind up catching pneumonia/I don’t wanna have a picnic at the park/Let’s order takeout and stay at home instead/I don’t wanna elaborate display of loves/Just keep things straightforward

I don’t want to be romantically clichéd/I just wanna be normal with you

I can tell that this is meant to be the chorus. I assume that Thomas wrote this as he was thinking about Ralph, but I definitely can relate to it, and I bet other people would, too. I start envisioning Puck sing-yelling the chorus into the microphone and Ralph, Thomas, and I creating a fairly fast and hard tempo on the guitars and drums, respectively. Kinda like Good Charlotte’s “I Don’t Wanna Be In Love”. Before I know it, I find myself wanting to grab a pencil and start writing a beginning to this song. This has to be our debut single. Unfortunately, right before I can open my mouth to reveal these thoughts, Puck suddenly gets up and briskly walks inside, my notebook in hand. 

“What in the hell was that about?” Ralph asks. “He seemed fine just a moment ago.”

“Maybe it has something to do with what Tara wrote,” Thomas replies pointedly, looking at me. “After all, she was furiously scribbling in her notebook after dinner last night.”

“Thomas,” I groan. 

“What?” he asks. “I’m simply relaying to Ralph what I saw you doing. You were laying on your stomach on your bed in your pajamas, writing line after line after line.”

“Thomas!” He shrugs his shoulders, and I sigh.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Ralph asks.

“I tried to not write about this, but I literally had no other ideas, and so I ended up writing about it,” I vaguely answer. This is exactly why I was dreading Puck being the one to look at my notebook; I knew he wouldn’t be too thrilled by what he read.


	28. Harry

I’m in the kitchen, making myself a strawberry banana smoothie for lunch and minding my business, when I suddenly hear Puck state crisply,

“I need to talk to you.” He startles me so much that I nearly let the knife slip out of my hand, which isn’t exactly what you want to have happen when you’re trying to chop something.

“A little warning next time,” I tell him indignantly, setting the knife down on the cutting board and turning to face him. “I could have cut my finger off.”

“Sorry,” Puck mumbles. “I didn’t realize you were cutting something. I do need to talk to you, though.” Well, this is a first. Usually, with us it’s the other way around.

“What’s up?” I ask. Puck takes a deep breath before replying,

“So, on Sunday the four of us decided that we would each try to write down something that could be used as our single, and, well, Tara wrote about us.”

“Okay,” I answer, slightly unsure why Puck would come to me over a song Tara wants to write for him. I still want to help him out, though, so I add,

“I remember how I felt the first time someone wrote a song about me—”

“I’m not talking about that,” Puck interrupts, annoyed. “Not exactly. Look, just listen to this.” He flips open the notebook and reads,

“I’m split between reality and daydreaming. You’re standing right in front of me, my best friend and confidant, while he’s out there living the Hollywood dream. The choice should be obvious, but I find myself unable and unwilling to choose.” Puck tosses the notebook onto the kitchen island and stares at me, waiting for me to say something.

“She’s referring to you and me, isn’t she?” I whisper. Puck nods curtly.

“I don’t know what to do. This clearly can’t be our single; the media would lose their shit.”

“I agree,” I tell him, trying to comfort him.

“I just…this is going to sound childish of me, but I want her to myself. I mean, I know that she developed feelings for you first and that it’s hard to get rid of a celebrity crush, and I don’t want to be a dick and tell her that she can’t at least live out her dreams for an evening, considering that I—” Puck stops himself, making me slightly suspicious. What was he about to say?

“I know that she’s her own person and I can’t stop her from living her life, but romantically I don’t want to have to share her,” Puck continues. “I know I’m being melodramatic, and I’m sorry.” Replace the feminine pronouns with ‘you’ and ‘your’, and Puck ends up sounding eerily similar to Louis the first time I told him I had begun fancying another person but still had feelings for him. 

Which means that Tara’s basically echoing me.

Holy shit.

50 Days Until Finale

Today, instead of practicing, the bands are learning the ins and outs of a celebrity interview, since they’ll have to do several in the week leading up to the finale as well as after this show in order to promote their music and generate public interest. In order for the bands to get a proper sense of what a celebrity interview is like, Jeff’s set up a mock interview for each of them. Thankfully, none of the mentors have to show up, so I have the place to myself, which makes it the perfect time for me to talk to Louis face-to-face. Puck’s reaction to Tara’s song suggestion has made me realize some things about the nature of my relationship with Louis.

So, now Louis’s sitting on the living room couch, and I’m standing in front of him, unsure how to go about telling him what’s in my head without sounding like an asshole.

“Is everything alright, Harry?” Louis asks. “You seem distracted.”

“I’ve been unfair to you,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. 

“What are you talking about?” he replies, clearly confused. I take a deep breath in order to gather the thoughts in my head before continuing.

“I’m talking about our entire relationship,” I answer. “I shouldn’t have forced you to have an open relationship with me in order for you to keep me.”

“You didn’t force me into anything, Harry,” Louis interrupts. “I fell pretty hard for Eleanor, remember?”

“But you always made sure to check up on me. Sure, sometimes you got busy for weeks at a time, but still. You never forgot about me. Not when One Direction was formed, not when we saw other people more frequently than we saw each other, not when the band went on hiatus and we broke up a few days after. Hell, even over the course of this show, you thought about me. But let me tell you something, Louis: there were times where I forgot about you.”

“Like when you hooked up with Lindsey,” Louis mutters under his breath.

“Not just then. Basically, there was a period from about 2013 to the time we ended things the first time where, if I wasn’t in the same room as you, alone at night with my own thoughts, or really craving some dick, I wasn’t thinking about you.” Louis is stunned silent, like he nearly got ran over by a speeding car.

“Eleanor has always been there for you, Louis. Whenever you were angry at me, or whenever I wasn’t around, or whenever you just needed someone outside of the band to talk to, she’s consistently set aside time for you. Even when she was studying for the finals before her graduation, she still managed to be available for you.”

“She was royally pissed at me,” Louis responds, a faint smile on his face.

“But she nonetheless did it because she cared about you,” I tell him. “I think she still cares about you.”

“Where are you getting at, Harold?”

“You’d be better off with someone like Eleanor than someone like me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. We aren’t in a romantic movie, Harry. There’s no need for all this. Just be straightforward with me.”

“Fine.” I sigh. Louis crosses his arms.

“Well, come on. Say it,” he demands lightly. “The bands are bound to return sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t think we should be together. Not romantically, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think we’re compatible.” Louis rolls his eyes.

“Try again, sweetheart. Why don’t you think we should be together?” Oh, he’s playing this mind game with me, the one where he won’t accept any answer that isn’t the one he wants to hear. I’m not in the mood to play, but with Louis, once he starts a game, it only ends when he says it ends.

“Because I’m flighty. I don’t want to be stuck with one person.”

“No.” This is part of the game. He’ll keep saying no until he’s satisfied with my response. Just another way he likes to assert his dominance over me.

“Because…” I’m losing confidence now. “Because I started fancying Tara the first day I met her.”

“Not quite.”

“Look, Louis, what do you want me to say?” I nearly shout in frustration. “That Puck and I had a conversation about a song Tara wrote about him and I and that I thought Puck sounded eerily similar to you during that conversation? Is that what you want to hear?” Louis asks with a serious expression,

“What did he say?”

“Essentially, he wanted to keep Tara to himself.” For some completely weird reason, this causes Louis to burst out laughing meanly.

“Am I missing something?” I ask him. After a couple minutes, Louis calms down enough to answer,

“Look, if you don’t want to be in a serious romantic relationship with me anymore, that’s fine. You’re a cool enough person that I would be more than happy to still be friends with you. But I have an issue with Puck influencing you to spew all of this sappy garbage out of your mouth.” It’s my turn to ask,

“Why?” Louis shakes his head and smirks.

“If you would have pulled your head out of your ass at some point during this entire show, even if it was for a brief moment, you would have realized that you weren’t the only one with wandering eyes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Grab a seat, and I’ll tell you everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the next two chapters are going to get pretty wild, starting with the fact that the cycle of people's POV established in this story is about to be broken. This is 100% intentional, and you'll (hopefully) see why as you continue reading.  
Now, if you're ready for some drama to ensue, buckle up, because you're in for a bumpy ride.  
-A


	29. Tara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: revenge hook-up, het sexual activities (eating out, bj), explicit language
> 
> 12/26/2019: After reading various things and doing some serious reflecting, I realized that while this scene isn't the most terrible thing out on the internet, it wasn't as good as I once believed it was, because it was painfully obvious that I had no clue what I was talking about. So, I went back and edited this scene in an attempt to make it less cringy. This is the result.  
So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the following chapter and that it's a more tolerable read than my first draft.  
-A

February

26 Days Until Finale

Over the course of this week, we’ve been recording our singles that we’ll debut live at the finale so that the studio version can get released once the competition is over and a winner is declared. In Pink World’s case, we’ve chosen Thomas’s song “Cliché”, and Puck and I have taken turns writing verses for it. For the most part, everyone’s been pretty exhausted when we get back to Harry’s place, and people are hitting the hay pretty early. Even with that in mind, I’m still baffled when by ten pm, Harry and I are the only two people in the house awake.

I feel like there's some unresolved tension between us. We've certainly been bantering more frequently as the finale gets closer, which I know has gotten under Puck's skin, even if he hasn’t directly said anything to me about it. Still, there's a part of me that wonders what it would be like to have some fun with Harry, and this evening seems like the most opportune time to fulfill that fantasy, especially since I don't know if and when another moment's going to pop up where he and I are alone.

"You okay, Tara?" Harry asks me, forcing me to get out of my head. "You seem awfully quiet." I've been helping him wash up the day's dishes by drying what he sets in the dish drainer and putting clean dishes away for the past fifteen minutes, but we really haven't said a word to each other since we got started.

"I was just letting my mind wander," I answer. He sets the dish that he just rinsed in the dish drainer and turns his head to look at me.

"I need to tell you something." He utters those words so seriously, I start worrying about what he would want to tell me.

"I didn't fuck up putting away dishes, did I?"

"No, it's not that. And before you ask, you didn't lose your spot in the finale, either. In fact, it doesn't have anything to do with the competition."

"Then, what is it, Harry?" I inquire. "What do you need to tell me?" He sighs, setting the sponge down on the little holder it belongs on.

"It's a bit complicated, but basically back in October Puck made out with Louis." Wait, what? Louis's into guys? And Louis was into Puck enough to kiss him?

"Who told you this?"

"Louis himself. We'd gotten into an argument earlier that evening, and I guess the two of them were eyeing each other up to that point, and so Louis went to Puck's room to cool off, one thing led to another, and they started making out."

"Hold on." A very important detail in Harry's story is sticking out to me. "So, when you say that you'd argued with Louis, does that mean that the two of you---"

"Yes," he interrupts. "We were." The people on social media were right, then; Harry and Louis were in a romantic relationship with each other.

"But you're not anymore." Harry shakes his head.

"I mean, we tried to make it work, but I don't think we were ever compatible, especially not these days."

"So, Louis and Puck kissed each other."

"Louis made the first move, but apparently it was Puck who had prompted him---"

"Stop," I snap, causing Harry to become concerned.

"I understand why you're upset," he tries to soothe. "I know that the two of you are---"

"It's not that," I cut him off again. "At least, that's not the only thing." I then explain to Harry about the deal Puck and I made at Manhattan Beach. The longer I talk, the more confused Harry gets.

"What's frustrating is that Puck's been a real asshole about me having a crush on you while I've not said one negative thing about him crushing on Louis, and frankly I think it's really unfair that Puck gets to do whatever the fuck he wants with Louis while I have to suppress my feelings towards you in order to not upset him," I rant.

"You're right; that is unfair," Harry agrees, which for some reason turns me on a bit. "Especially since the deal wasn't supposed to be one-sided."

"Thank you!" I exclaim. An awkward silence settles between us as Harry resumes washing dishes. He looks like he wants to say something but is having difficulty getting the words out, which is something I can relate to all too well. After a few minutes, the silence gets unbearable, and the tension present could be cut with a knife. Right when I’m about to say something to break the silence, Harry glances over at me and asks me something that causes my heart to beat faster.

“Do you want to even the score, Tara?”

“Wh-What?” I stammer out of shock. There’s no way that Harry’s suggesting to me what I think he’s suggesting.

“I just think it’s selfish of Puck to make you hold onto your…how did you put it?”

“Hall pass,” I whisper.

“Right, hall pass. Anyway, does it seem right to you that Puck gets to use his while simultaneously making you keep yours? Because it doesn’t seem right to me.” I shake my head, preparing myself to turn down his offer. Normally, I’m the type of person who suffers in silence and doesn’t like reaching out to people for help or allowing them to take care of me, but when I look up from the bowl I’m drying and at Harry, I pause. Even though he’s only in a black t-shirt and sweatpants this evening, there’s something about Harry that’s alluring to me. Coupled with the fact that we both have bones to pick with Puck with Louis, I’m starting to feel vengeful and aroused. Before my brain has the chance to stop my emotions, I tell Harry,

“I want to use mine tonight with you.” That sentence does something to Harry that makes his eyes suddenly appear to light up in flames. He finishes washing the dishes rapidly and tells me to just let them drip dry in the dish drainer, and together we rush upstairs to his bedroom. The smell of vanilla hits me as soon as we enter the room. Harry flicks on the light before walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge, and in that moment my logic tells me that this is a bad idea, making me hesitate.

“Are you alright, Tara?” Harry asks softly, sensing my nervousness. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I’m scared,” I quietly blurt out.

“Of what?”

“Breaking the rules. And…you know…” Harry nods his head, understanding what I mean perfectly.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to, and if you want to stop at any point, we’ll stop, no questions asked. I want you to feel comfortable. Now, as for breaking the rules, wouldn’t you say Louis and Puck’s interaction throws things out the window, so to speak?” He slightly smirks at the end of his rhetorical question, and my nerves mostly dissipate and get replaced by a certain boldness that has me walk over to him and sit on his lap unprompted.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Harry observes while raising his left eyebrow, his smirk widening.

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask. Although, judging by how I'm starting to feel his dick press against my thigh, that might have been an unnecessary question.

"No, not at all," he replies as he cups the left side of my face with his right hand. He had taken his rings off before he started washing the dishes, but he’s managed to slip back on a couple before we came up here, and the feeling of metal mixed with the natural warmth of his hand feels nice on my cheek. He leans in and kisses me, making me feel like my heart jumped up to my throat. About ten seconds later, my face starts burning up. His lips feel warm, soft, and inviting. I find myself reaching up to Harry's head so that I can run my fingers through his hair, and that's the precise moment in time where we start making out. His hair's thick and silky, maybe even silkier than Puck's. Harry’s surprisingly minty-tasting tongue winds up in my mouth, making me wonder what mine tastes like to him. I hope it’s a pleasant flavor and not something like onion or garlic. That would be disgusting, I bet.

Harry’s hands slowly snake their way down my back, the feeling of skin and metal feeling just as nice there as it did on my face. Eventually, they find themselves on my butt. Harry gently squeezes it, almost like he’s testing the waters, and I let out a soft moan. Harry stops kissing me momentarily to whisper in my ear,

“You good, Tara?”

“Do it again.”

“What, this?” He squeezes my butt again, but this time it’s with a more firm and powerful grip. I clench my hands around his shoulders as another moan slips out of my mouth. Let me just tell you, this feels fucking incredible.

“You like that, don’t you, baby?” Harry murmurs, his voice deeper and more lustful than it had been in the kitchen. My mind starts spinning from the simple act of Harry calling me baby, and I get unbearably hot. I have to cool off. I remove my hands from Harry’s shoulders and start unbuttoning my blouse. Unfortunately, I’m so flustered that my hands are shaking, making it impossible for me to get a good hold of the buttons. Seeing how much I’m struggling, Harry gently grabs my hand and stops me before I tear my shirt.

“Would you like me to help you?” Afraid of my voice cracking, I simply nod my head. Harry directs me to place my hands back on his shoulders while he finishes unbuttoning my top. The cool air that hits my bare chest and stomach as Harry exposes more and more of my skin is refreshing and helps me not feel so feverish. My hands quickly grab ahold of Harry's t-shirt once my blouse hits the floor, and he relaxes enough for me to pull it over his head. Once I toss the tee aside, I take a look at his bare torso and freeze. I knew he worked out and was pretty strong based on different articles I’ve read, but damn. No amount of reading’s prepared me for how soft yet defined Harry’s muscles look, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Add in the plethora of tattoos he has, particularly the more famous ones, and I start envisioning seeing his upper body pictured in an art museum. Sure, he’s a little sweaty at the moment, but the moisture somehow makes everything pop and look that much more like a masterpiece. I could stare at it all day, not gonna lie.

"Like what you see?" he asks, preventing me from checking him out further, much to my disappointment.

"Absolutely," I answer in such a bad seductive voice that I bust out laughing.

"What's so funny?" He's chuckling right along with me, so I know he's not upset at me for giggling.

"Oh, I just sound like a cheesy porno female lead, and I can't take myself seriously."

"Don't judge yourself too harshly. I've been with lots of people that have said and behaved worse than that when they're around me."

"Must be the Styles effect: they see your face and body, and it messes with their brain."

“Are you saying that I mess with your brain, Tara?” Shit. He’s got me. The teasing smile he has plastered on his face is doing nothing to calm me down; in fact, it’s making me more fazed.

“Maybe,” I quietly answer, stretching out the a. 

“I see. So, you find me attractive, then?” He’s definitely razzing me right now, and I can barely keep myself together. As it is, my filter vanishes, and I mumble before I can stop myself,

“Maybe even sexy.”

“Attractive AND sexy, huh?” I nod my head, suddenly feeling very shy. I’m sure I’m blushing at this point.

“Tell me, Tara, do you think you’re sexy?” 

"No," I immediately respond. As soon as the word leaves my mouth, though, the memory of Puck describing the way I behaved in practice when Louis was helping us sell "Mz. Hyde" for the rock musical plays in my head, causing me to second guess myself. Am I sexy? 

"See, I think you're incredibly sexy," Harry whispers. Those sparkling green eyes and dilated pupils of his certainly help sell that statement. He leans into my neck and gently kisses it, making my breath catch. Harry glances up at me and smiles coyly before returning his attention to my neck and slowly moving his soft, plump lips down it as he kisses it. I feel like I’m floating.

"Fuck, Harry," I whisper. He plants one last kiss on the base of my neck, then leans back, his eyes moving up and down my body.

“I wish you could see how good you look right now, sitting on my lap with no shirt on and begging with your eyes for me to touch you.” Holy shit. I have no idea how to even respond to that. Thankfully, I don’t have to, for Harry leans in and resumes our make-out session. We quickly get sloppy, though, and instead of sticking to each other lips, we move all over, wanting to touch as much of each other as we can. Neck, shoulder, chest, upper arm, cheek, you name it. At some point, I find myself licking one of his eyebrows like it was ice cream, and I think he does the same to my eyelashes. What we're unable to get to with our lips, we try our damnedest to get to it with our hands like we’re two greedy kids at a candy shop.

Or maybe we're more like a couple of drunk fools hooking up after meeting each other at a club, knowing that this will most likely be the only time we'll ever get to be this intimate with each other and wanting to make the most of it before it has to end. I certainly feel intoxicated right now, and I haven't had a single drop of liquor this evening. The sounds of soft moaning fill the air, and the smell of sweat mixes with the vanilla scent to create an interesting aroma in the room. Time begins slowing down. My bra disappears at some point, and I start feeling Harry's lips and hands on me with greater intensity. 

I can only imagine what’s going through Harry’s head as we’re doing this, but if it’s anything like what I’m thinking, it’s going to take a catastrophic emergency to break the two of us apart, because I don’t want to take my hands and mouth off him. He feels like a muscular teddy bear, which matches his physical appearance perfectly; he tastes pleasantly and addictingly salty; and he smells like apples, which compliments the vanilla scent of the room quite nicely. It’s almost like apple pie topped with rich vanilla ice cream, the smell. Or maybe cheesecake topped with an apple drizzle.

It’s all quite wonderful.

"How are you feeling?" Harry whispers after who knows how long, pausing what he was doing.

"Ecstatic," I whisper back, causing Harry to chuckle and shake his head.

"You might be elated, but you're nowhere near ecstatic," he playfully corrects.

"What's the difference?" This question appears to trigger Harry to have an internal argument with himself. I don't know the exact details of the argument, since I'm not inside his brain, but I can tell by the look he gets in his eyes that he settles the debate by going, "fuck it."

"I can show you, if you want," he tells me.

"Yeah, why don't you show me what ecstasy actually feels like, since I'm apparently so clueless?" I taunt.

"Sure, Tara," Harry teases back. "Start by taking off your pants." Hold up. Can we get a replay? Did Harry Styles actually just tell me to remove my pants? If fanfiction has taught me anything, we're about two minutes away from him either fingering me, eating me out, or even inserting his dick inside me, and no one has ever done any of those things to me before now.

"You said that you wanted to know what true ecstasy feels like, didn't you?" Harry asks, still poking fun at me.

"Harry, I'm nervous," I blurt out. Immediately, he starts worrying.

"Oh, god, Tara, I'm so sorry," he replies genuinely. "I wouldn't have been that bold if I knew it would make you uncomfortable. We don't have to do anything else if you don't want to, that's totally fine by me." I get off his lap and stand up, initially intending on apologizing to Harry, wishing him good night, and going to my room. But then my mind starts imagining what would happen if I stayed and went along with the scenario Harry has set up. While I don't think I'm quite ready to have proper sex yet, the idea of having someone touch me with their fingers and/or tongue does sound appealing the longer I envision it happening.

"Tara?" Harry calls, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About how much of a fool I would be if I left right now." Harry's eyes widen in alarm.

"Tara, do not feel forced to stay just because of me. I mean it; if you truly want to end things here, then I won't hold it against you at all. I'd much rather you not feel coerced into doing something you don't want to do, especially after what happened with---"

"Harry, listen." I then reveal to him the thoughts I was having before he called my name, and once I'm done talking, he nods his head.

"I can certainly do that if it's something you want me to do," he responds. "I don't think what you describe is beyond my abilities." Now that we're on the same page, I no longer hesitate taking off the pants I'm wearing. I do take my time removing them, though. I gotta tease Harry a little bit, you know. He briefly gets off his bed so that I can stretch out on it. When my back hits the sheets, I'm unsurprised to feel silk. He's rich, after all; I feel it's almost a given for him to have silk sheets. Once I'm comfortable, Harry gets back on the bed. The rings he had on his hand are no longer there, but I can't really tell where he put them in this position. Not that I have the opportunity to sit up and look for them, because Harry hovers above me and pecks my lips before moving his down my body.

“You feel nice,” I whisper to him when his lips are just below my chest. He looks up at me with his big, bright emerald kiwi eyes and smiles with his lips closed, then resumes covering my body with his kisses. He stops just above my underwear.

“May I?” He asks expectantly.

“Yes, please,” I respond breathily, earning a chuckle from him.

“Spread your legs, love. I need to be able to slide these off.” I do as he asks, trusting him completely at this point. Once my panties are off, he gently drops them on the floor beside the bed before taking a look at my entire body for the first time. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, making me blush. His eyes glance downward at my bare pussy, which seems to captivate his attention for a few seconds.

“Everything about you is so pretty.” His eyes are still on my crotch when he says this, making my stomach jump.

“Thanks,” I mumble, unsure how else to reply. Harry shakes his head with a close-lipped smile on his face.

“Oh, Tara,” he sighs. “What am I going to do with you?” I playfully smack his arm, and we laugh for a moment. For some, that might have killed the mood, but for me, it only makes me that much more drawn to him.

“There are a couple ways we can go about this,” Harry tells me. “You can either remain lying down and I can tuck my head in between your legs, or we can switch positions and you can sit on my face.”

“I wanna see your eyes,” I blurt out.

“Oh?” His eyebrow’s raised again. “You like looking at my eyes?” I nod my head. 

“They’re quite beautiful. Not only is the color pretty, but they’re so big and round and expressive. Like, there are times your eyes have an anime-like quality to them.” I can’t believe I just said that to him. Oh god, that sounded really cringy. I jump off the bed, preparing to run away and scold myself for being so childish, but then Harry gently grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“Hey, sweetie,” he whispers, wrapping me in a hug. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed about liking my eyes. In fact, I like your eyes a lot too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Tara, I do. They remind me of the calm, cloudy days in London where it’s chilly enough to have most people stay indoors but not so unbearably cold that I can’t walk around and go on a little adventure.” Can this man get any more endearing? Harry takes the opportunity to kiss my cheek before lying on the bed on his back and motioning for me to sit on his face. Once I’m situated, I ask him how he’s doing, because a good part of his noise is covered up by me and I want to make sure he’s able to breathe.

“I’m doing great, now that I’m between the legs of the girl I’ve been fancying the past few months and she’s nice and wet for me,” he answers.

“Holy shit, that’s hot.” The vibrations from Harry chuckling make me that much more aroused, and I find myself wanting him to do more with his mouth than just laugh at me. I soon get my wish, for as soon as he kisses my inner thighs, he slowly starts licking my slit.

“Hmm, yummy,” he murmurs. It’s my turn to laugh at him for his goofiness, but my giggles start turning into moans as his tongue circles my clit in the same slow speed from earlier. The feeling building up in my body’s quite pleasurable, but I wish he would go faster. When I express this desire to him, Harry stops, making me whine in protest. I know, not my best behavior, but what can I say?

“Maybe if you tell me what else you like about me, I’ll speed up,” Harry states, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re such a narcissist!” I exclaim lightheartedly, hitting his toned arm softly.

“Oh, well. Your loss.” He goes back to licking my clit excruciatingly slow. There’s just enough pleasure running through my body that my pride disappears and I end up going along with Harry’s little game due to me becoming increasingly needy for him.

"You have a dazzling smile," I murmur. "And I'm not talking about that smirk of yours, although it does get to me from time to time. But the moment you start grinning ear to ear, that's when I get super flustered, because your eyes sparkle and your dimple become super pronounced and you just look so...fucking...cute." I'm now finding it difficult to concentrate, and the fact that Harry momentarily stops to gently kiss my inner thigh is not helping things in the slightest.

“There you go, Tara. Just like that.” As promised, he speeds up, and I end up closing my eyes. For the next several minutes, I list every single thing I find physically attractive about Harry as he eats me out. His soft, plump, juicy lips; his fluffy-looking hair; his tattoos; his muscles; his tongue; his big, strong hands; his fruity, beachy scent; everything. Soon, the pleasurable feeling running through my body starts becoming more intense, and I find myself taking shallower breaths. My legs begin shaking as I become unbearably hot. Meanwhile, Harry’s darting his tongue in and out of me while rubbing my clit in fast circular motions with his thumb. I find myself grinding against his face, which gets Harry humming in approval.

“Look at me,” he whispers. When I do, the reverent expression in his eyes pushes me over the edge, and I’m reduced to moans, curses, and Harry’s name escaping my lips over and over and over again as I begin orgasming. This must be what Harry meant by ecstasy; it becomes the only thing coursing through my mind and body. No wonder he corrected me. I feel like I'm going to explode. A few minutes later, when it’s obvious that I can’t take any more, Harry stops eating me out and allows me to flop off him and onto the nice, cool sheets. I feel really sleepy, but also quite blissful. Since I'm lying on my side and facing Harry, he's able to kiss me. His lips taste a bit salty and wet. The last thing I remember before I drift off is Harry whispering,

"You looked beautiful, Tara." 

The next morning, I wake up to Harry spooning me. For a hot minute, I’m confused; what’s Harry doing in my bed? Then, the memories from last night flood in, and I start getting a bit flustered. I’m in his bed, completely naked, and Harry and I actually hooked up. I mean, he definitely knew what he was doing, and it ranks high among my top life experiences, but part of me can’t believe I did that---that we did that.  
Harry shifts a bit in his sleep, and I can feel his dick pressing against my ass through his sweatpants. His nearly rock-hard dick.

Oh, no. I was so caught up in living out my daydreams that I completely forgot to do something for Harry in return, which I’m pretty sure is a huge no-no. Even if the mistake’s forgivable, I don’t want Harry to think that I’m ungrateful for everything he did for me last night. There’s only one thing I can do to remedy the situation, and it involves me swallowing my pride, among other things.  
I move Harry’s arm off me long enough for me to roll over and touch Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry,” I whisper, gently shaking his shoulder.

“Hmmm,” he quietly groans, putting his arm back on top of me and pulling me closer to him. My mouth’s close enough to the shoulder I shook that I could kiss it, which is exactly what I do.

“What’s up, Tara?” he sleepily mumbles, keeping his eyes closed. I take a deep breath and answer,

“Listen, I know this is going to sound silly, and you’re probably not going to like the fact that I woke you up just to tell you this, but I feel bad for not doing anything for you last night, and I wanna make it up to you.” I feel Harry tense up.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I reply nervously. Harry opens his eyes and smiles lazily at me as he sits up.

“Come here,” he whispers kindly, gently patting his thigh. Once I’m sitting on his lap, he runs his fingers through my hair, making me tense up that much more.

“My dear, dear Tara,” he murmurs. “I thought you said you would never put a dick in your mouth.” Of course he brings up that truth-or-dare response, the cheeky bastard.

“Seriously, Harry?” I nearly exclaim. “I already---” I get cut off when he leans in and kisses me softly. While we quickly shift to making out, it’s definitely at a slower pace than it was last night. I think it makes the whole thing more intense, though. After several minutes, I find myself trying to pull down his sweatpants.

“You sure you want to do this?” Harry asks quietly.

“Yeah.” In response, he helps me remove his sweats, revealing just how hard and big he really is. For a moment, I get intimidated; he has a pretty substantial package. I gently take a hold of his dick, carefully edge my mouth over it, and slowly move up, making sure my teeth don’t scrape against it. I may be inexperienced, but I’ve read enough to know that I shouldn’t be using my teeth right now. I’m able to take about a third of him in before my gag reflex kicks in, and I take that as a signal to slide back down. I go at this pace for a bit as I get the hang of it. Eventually, I’m able to relax enough to take in another third without too much trouble, and I feel comfortable enough to incorporate my tongue into the equation. What I can’t get with my mouth, I get at with my hands. Soon, Harry gets quite chatty.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he tells me. “Love what you’re doing. It feels so good right now. Fuck, Tara, keep going.” You know, Harry acting this way over me doing this for him is actually quite arousing. I want him to be impressed with me. So, I keep going. The longer I’m at it, the louder and more talkative Harry gets. At some point, I wind up glancing upward at him, and my stomach starts doing somersaults; even though his eyes are closed, Harry looks absolutely euphoric and gorgeous. The sight of him is so riveting that I'm unable to take my eyes off him, and my heart starts swelling with pride as I listen to the constant stream of compliments falling out of his mouth. Suddenly, Harry grabs my hair and yanks it, and soon after something salty and slightly bitter shoots down my throat. Seconds later, he starts calming down, and I remove my mouth from him and swallow the remnants of what had come out of him. The roots of my hair sting somewhat, and my jaw's a bit sore, but I think it's worth seeing the idyllic look on Harry's face.

“Holy shit,” he pants, his cheeks flushed. “That was…wow.”

“Thank you,” I quietly reply, blushing slightly as I stand up. Harry chuckles, playfully shaking his head at me.

“Of course you would find a way to be all modest and cute after giving a fantastic blowjob to someone.”

“Harry, I swear---” He cuts me off by wrapping his arms around me in a hug that has me clinging onto him.

“I’m not kidding when I say that you were really amazing,” he whispers in my ear. “You should really give yourself some credit for once, Tara.”


	30. Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: size dissing, physical fighting

25 Days Until Finale

You know, I really wanted to be woken up by my mentor loudly moaning my girlfriend’s name. Just a lovely start to my day.

Who are we kidding? I’m pissed. I know, I know, I’m being a tad bit hypocritical because I hooked up with Louis, but at least I stopped things before we were fully naked. At least I gave a fuck about Tara’s feelings, especially since she was upset over the very same man she’s hooking up with right now.

I bet they’ve gone all the way. I mean, this is Harry we’re talking about. Just about any person in Tara’s position would throw themselves at him and let him do whatever he wanted to them. 

And yet, I’m not surprised that this is happening. They’ve been flirting each other pretty hard for the past few weeks, even if I’m in the room. I should have known I never had a shot with Tara as soon as Harry entered the picture, but it still would have been nice to have and---more importantly---keep the girl I’ve been crushing on since junior year of high school.

I have to try to keep my cool, though. The concert is nearly a month away, and I don’t want to act like the members of Honeybees did, particularly because we’ll be in front of thousands of people. Plus, I don’t want to risk Pink World’s reputation by getting us disqualified mere weeks before the finale because I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.

I need some fresh air.

10 Days Until Finale

Two weeks.

I’ve managed to keep it together for two weeks. I mean, Ralph’s definitely noticed that something’s off with me, especially since I’ve bickered with Tara more frequently, but I’ve been able to keep him off my back for the most part by telling him that I’m stressed about the finale, which is true. For the last month, everyone’s been scrambling to have their shit together before the concert on the 14th, and this week is no exception, as we’ve been practicing at The Forum to establish the order of performers and make sure the technical stuff’s working smoothly and correctly.

But if Lee doesn’t quit running his mouth, I’m going to lose my shit. He’s been snarky towards Pink World and me specifically all day, even when we’ve gotten back to Harry’s place for the evening, and I’m getting sick of hearing him nitpick at our performance like he’s Carson or something.

The boys are currently chilling in the living room while Harry’s in the kitchen ordering Chinese and Tara’s upstairs changing. I’m trying to focus on Wheel of Fortune, but I’m finding it harder and harder to ignore Lee. Right after someone solves the second puzzle, Lee remarks,

“You know, I feel bad for Tara, because she was so dissatisfied with how Puck behaves in the bedroom that she felt the need to have Harry fuck her.”

“Fuck you, Lee,” I blurt out angrily, causing everyone to look over at me. I’m not sure if he actually heard Harry moaning that morning or if he’s just trying to get under my skin, but either way that was uncalled for.

“Aw, did I hit a nerve?” Lee mockingly asks. “Did I hurt poor little Puckie’s feelings?” Oh, he did not just call me that. Sofia used to insult me with that nickname, and it still stings as much as it did then.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Ralph warns quietly but sternly. I would have followed Ralph’s advice, because it’s good and sound, but then Lee hits me with,

“I bet Tara enjoyed actually feeling something for a change, since Harry’s rumored to be big. I don’t think Puck even hits the five inch mark.” That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.

“FUCK YOU, LEE STOCKDALE!” I roar, lunging at Lee. He shoves me off as he stands up.

“Oh, you wanna go, little man?” he taunts. My vision blurs as I push Lee in retaliation. He pushes me back, and we really start going at each other. The fight doesn’t last very long, mainly because Harry breaks it up by grabbing the back of my shirt and yanking me away from Lee.

“Outside, now,” Harry orders, glaring at me.

“But Lee started it!” I yell.

“I don’t care who started it,” Harry nearly shouts. “We’re going to have a nice, little chat on the patio, and you’re not going to say another word until we get outside.” Clearly, there is no room for negotiation. As I follow Harry out, I see Tara rushing downstairs, probably to find out what all the commotion is about. I’m not real thrilled to see her, but I can’t exactly do anything about that at the moment.

Once Harry closes the patio door behind him, he turns to face me.

“I want an explanation,” he demands. “And not just for what happened back there. You’ve been in a real pissy mood for the past few weeks, and while I’ve originally dismissed it as you simply being stressed, that doesn’t explain or excuse you physically fighting a fellow contestant.” I can’t believe he actually has the goddamn audacity to ask me why I’m upset after everything he’s done with Tara.

“Oh, so I’m supposed to just sit here and smile when you and Tara start flirting while I’m sitting right next to her in the same room?” I snap. “And turn my head the other way and cover my ears when the two of you start fucking each other?” 

“First of all, you need to stop spazzing,” Harry almost hisses. “As it is, you’re on pretty thin ice, Puck, and I will send you home if you continue acting like this. I really don’t want to do that, as a last minute change like that would make things for the finale very complicated, but what you did this evening is grounds for me to do that, if I so choose.” Before I can open my mouth to retaliate, Harry adds quietly,

“Also, the minute you and Tara agreed to allow each other to hook up with Louis and me, your relationship with her became more open. That dynamic wasn’t supposed to only benefit you, Robert Wellington. Tara understands and even accepts that, or she would have objected to the idea of you two not being exclusive a long time ago.” You know, he’s really pushing all my buttons, and I just want him to shut up. Before I even realize what I’m doing, my hand touches one of the patio chairs.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Harry responds. “You fighting a contestant is bad enough, but you assaulting a judge will send you packing immediately.” At this point, we’re glowering at each other. My logic is pleading for me to take Harry’s words into consideration, but my anger drowns out my voice of reason, and I’m about two seconds away from throwing this stupid thing at Harry. Right when I pick the chair up, I hear a familiar voice call out,

“Put the chair down, Puck.” When I glance over at the direction of the voice, I freeze. Louis’s standing in the frame of the patio door, alarmed at the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Remember how I was during the Bella situation?” Louis asks. “Believe me, Puck, you don’t want to throw that chair at Harry, because his reaction will make me look like a kitten in comparison.” Taking a deep breath but still very much upset, I slowly set the chair down.

“Good,” Louis responds.

“What are you doing here, Louis?” Harry asks, just as confused as I am.

“Ralph texted me about what was happening over here, and I got here as soon as I could,” Louis answers. “Dave and Melissa are keeping an eye on things at my place until I get back, which, judging from what I’ve just witnessed, may be a bit.” 

“Here, why don’t you talk with Puck?” Harry suggests. “I still need to have a discussion with Lee, anyway.”

“That was what I was planning on doing.” Harry briefly turns his attention to me.

“If you don’t have a better attitude and a sincere apology ready by the time I get back, you’re done competing,” he warns as he walks back inside. Once he closes the patio door behind him, Louis tells me to take a seat before sitting across from me.

“Ralph and I have been talking for the past few days,” Louis reveals. “He came up to me as soon as he could Sunday and told me about your behavior. He’s been really concerned about you, you know. Said the last time you acted like this was when Sofia was still in the band, and he doesn’t want you spiraling out of control again or the band to break up.”

“How lovely of him,” I reply sarcastically.

“Stop. Based on what Ralph’s told me and what I’ve witnessed, you’re in some serious trouble right now, Puck.” I huff but don’t verbally respond.

“Now, did something happen between Tara and Harry?”

“How did you know?” I blurt out. Louis shrugs.

“It was just a guess.”

“A very accurate one.”

“I’ve learned to pick up on people’s body language and quietly observe what’s going on around me after years of being relegated to the background,” Louis explains. “It’s come in handy on many occasions.”

“I’m sure it has.”

“But, it can only go so far. In order for me to get the complete picture, I need the person to actually tell me what’s going on so that I can begin to help them properly.” I sigh, mentally preparing myself to disclose my emotions to Louis.

“Well, it started in August, when you and Harry were checking in on us after I had passed out during the second round of auditions.” I then divulge everything that has happened since then, including what Harry told me earlier this evening. While I’m talking, Louis sits and listens attentively, and he doesn’t speak until I’m finished.

“I can certainly emphasize with you, Puck,” Louis states. “I remember making a similar deal with Harry many years ago, when One Direction was starting to really take off. I really didn’t like the idea at the time, and I was afraid that I would lose Harry because I thought that I wouldn’t be able to stand out against whomever he might be interested in.” Well, that sounds familiar. Eerily so.

“Why did you agree to not be exclusive with Harry, then?” I ask.

“Why did you agree to not be exclusive with Tara?”

“Because I love her,” I almost whisper. Louis nods his head.

“I know you don’t want to hear this at the moment, but you need to know that Harry was right: the deal you and Tara made wasn’t and isn’t supposed to benefit only one person. It wouldn’t be very fair of you to hold hooking up with Harry against Tara when you’ve gotten to make out with me essentially scot-free.” He’s right. Doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better, but still.

“What do I do?” I ask.

“Firstly, do whatever Harry asks you to do in order for you to be able to stay and compete in the finale with your bandmates,” Louis answers. “Then, have a proper conversation with Tara about this as soon as possible. I won’t promise all your problems will magically disappear, because life really doesn’t work like that, but being open to Tara about how you feel is better than you harboring resentment against her and blowing up in her face. If you’re still feeling a bit grouchy when the finale comes around, channel that energy into your performance, if it fits in with one of the songs you’re singing.”

“I’m confused about that last bit,” I tell him honestly. I’m having a hard time picturing anyone allowing me to be grumpy on stage.

“Think about how Lindsey Buckingham interacts with Stevie Nicks on stage, and that might help you understand what I mean,” Louis replies quickly, looking away from me and shifting his attention elsewhere. When I turn my head towards the direction Louis’ looking at, I see Harry leaning against the door frame, staring sternly at me with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

The Finale

The good news is that I’m still here. I have Louis to thank for that, because if it weren’t for him showing up and stopping me from throwing that patio chair at Harry, my ass would have been shipped back to Ohio. His advice has also proven to be quite helpful, and I’ve been able to keep my cool for the most part.

The bad news is that Tara’s not really pleased with me. During our relationship talk, for example, she called me a selfish jackass, which I know is completely accurate, but I wish she didn’t feel that way about me. We’ve been able to act civil towards each other during practice and interviews, though, so unless there’s conspiracy theorists keeping an eye on us, I don’t think the general public has caught on that my relationship with Tara has gotten a bit rocky yet.

After this evening, though, they just might.

I’ve been up since about seven this morning, a whole twelve hours before the concert starts. Realistically speaking, I could have slept a little longer, since we’re not due at The Forum until three for soundcheck, but I’m a bundle of nerves. Thankfully, I’m not the only one feeling this way, as I see everyone else eating breakfast when I head downstairs.

After breakfast, things start getting nuts as we all scramble to get ready to go to The Forum. At around nine, a hairstylist and makeup artist show up. The makeup artist might seem a bit excessive for some, considering that Tara’s the only girl here, but when you stop to think about who our mentor is, it becomes less strange. I know for a fact that Thomas, Dylan, and Patrick all got eyeliner in addition to Tara.

The four of us---Ralph, Tara, myself, and Thomas---decided a few days ago that we’d all wear something red and black to try and coordinate our outfits, and I must say, we look good. Tara and I are almost matching, as we’re both wearing black leather jackets and heeled boots, but Tara’s gone in a more sensual direction with a black lace bodysuit and a red pleather mini skirt, while I’m simply wearing a plain red t-shirt and black skinny jeans.

Even if we end up losing, at least we did so in style.

We’re the fourth band to perform, so by the time we’re hitting the stage, it’s nearly nine o’clock. The order of our setlist is as follows: “Love Kills”, “Cliché”, “Good Girl”, “Party Monster”, and “I’m Still Standing”. Before each band performs, a video compiling everyone’s best moments from the show plays, and they’re about three minutes long. While there were people cheering for the three bands that performed before us, they weren’t nearly as loud for them as they are for us. As soon as the video for Pink World starts playing, it seems like every single person in that stadium starts screaming excitedly. It’s a packed house, so I’d expect some noise, but I don’t think there’s anything in this world that prepares you for thousands of people in one place yelling at the top of their lungs because they’re looking forward to seeing you. If it weren’t for these earpieces, I would have gone deaf.

“Holy shit,” Thomas mouths, probably as shocked as I am.

“I know,” I mouth back. In addition to performing in front of thousands of people, millions more are allegedly tuning in, either through their television screens, computers, laptops, or cell phones via an exclusive livestream. It is definitely, without a doubt, too late to turn back now. Once the video ends, the stage goes dark, and we wait for the stadium to get quiet before we launch into “Love Kills”. The deafening roar from the audience returns when I begin the song by coming in on the guitar. For some reason, playing the starting notes for “Love Kills” is bringing out some of the angst I was feeling a couple weeks ago.

When Tara starts singing, I immediately notice a difference between the way she’s performing this song now and when she covered it back in October. While there’s still a great deal of sadness in her voice, it’s coupled with another emotion: rage. When Thomas comes in on the drums and Ralph on the bass guitar, the lights hit the stage as planned. However, something unplanned also happens: Tara whips her head around and stares me down with a fiery gaze as she sings,

“Tell me, why have we forsaken the dreams we had?” I feel like my insides turn into jelly. She keeps her laser focus on me as she uses the lyrics to taunt me, and it takes all my willpower to remain playing. Even though she’s mocking me as she sings, she looks fucking hot as she’s doing it, and part of me wants to take her right then and there. But, I know that wouldn’t be very conducive to our performance, so I can only watch in sexual frustration as Tara ramps up her sexiness and starts moving around the stage for the chorus. She expertly moves in between those two personas as the song progresses, weaving a captivating tale for the audience to view. They seem to be loving every minute of it. I mean, why wouldn’t they? She’s giving them everything they desire.

When she joins Ralph and me on the guitar during the instrumental solo, Tara comes over to me and starts grinding herself up against my side, which is only making my dirty thoughts run that much more rampant. Then, it all comes to a head when she snatches my microphone off its stand, rests her head on my shoulder once the solo ends, and glances upward at me as she sings,

“Love’s dying sin is just dust in the wind, and I face the other side of no tomorrow.” I don’t know how she can sound and look so pure and innocent while moaning, but she’s doing it, all while trying her best to maintain eye contact with me. My face grows warm as the crotch of my pants tighten. When she steps away from me to finish the song, I think to myself,

I’m not going to be the only one who feels like this. Two can play this game.

Unfortunately, the first opportunity I have to get back at Tara for what she did to me is when Harry joins us on stage to collaborate with us for Carrie Underwood’s “Good Girl”. Firstly, Harry and I haven’t been on the best of terms since I nearly threw that patio chair at him, and I just know he’s going to react if I start teasing Tara with the lyrics, even if she did it to me first. I also have to take into consideration that, despite me wanting her to focus on me, Tara will probably be too busy gawking at Harry to really pay attention to anything I do. I mean, he’s really pulled all the stops this evening to ensure that he looks princely.

Harry must have gotten the memo that we were dressing in red and black for the concert, because he’s decided to wear a velvety black suit with a red Victorian-inspired blouse and matching black velvet boots, which is definitely dressier than my outfit. I’m also fully aware that he’s standing at least two inches taller than me, so he kinda make me looks like a dwarf. While he’s probably 30 pounds heavier than me, it’s all muscle, which I’m sure he’s spent years on achieving. Finally, there’s the matter of his stupidly handsome and symmetrical face.

As if I didn’t already have enough reason to be stressed about.

When Thomas comes in on the drums, I force myself to take a deep breath and try to center myself. While I do want to get some of this angst out, I cannot do it in a way that detracts from my performance. Tara starts playing her guitar seconds later, and I find myself shifting into what I can best describe as a wanna-be Lindsey Buckingham. My voice takes on a snide tone the minute I open my mouth to sing,

“Hey, good girl, with your head in the clouds, I bet you I can tell you what you’re thinking about.” At first, I’m looking at Tara, but as I keep singing, my eyes flicker from her to Harry and back again. I obviously don’t have a mirror in front of me, but I can imagine I have a pretty callous, taunting look in my eyes, because that about sums up how I’m feeling at the moment. I briefly turn my attention to the audience for the first part of the chorus, but as soon as I finish uttering the word “find”, I stare daggers at Harry and basically tell him through the lyrics that he’s no good for Tara. Harry meets my intense glare and smirks, as though he’s silently responding,

Game on. He then proceeds to not only match my energy as he begins singing his part of the song but also mimic how I performed, except he spends a lot more time glancing over at me than Tara. It quickly becomes obvious that Harry’s using this song to fight with me over Tara. I wonder what the audience and the judges sitting at the table in front of the stage are thinking right now as they’re watching us. As if it wasn’t already clear enough that there’s some tension between Harry and me, he gives me the exact same stare as I gave him at the exact same moment in the chorus. In order to distract myself from getting physical with Harry on stage during the instrumental break, I look over at Tara. While she’s playing beautifully, she’s also incredibly flustered; her cheeks have taken on a pinkish hue. God only knows what’s going on inside her head. I can tell you that I’m incredibly frustrated, so much so that when I come back in, I nearly end up screaming into my microphone,

“He’s no good, girl, why can’t you see? He’ll take your heart and break it; listen to me, yeah.” Thankfully, in the original song Carrie Underwood sort of does the same thing, so my sing-shouting isn’t that out of place. Harry then looks over at me coolly and responds to me with the next lyric:

“Why, why you gotta be so blind? Won’t you open up your eyes?” If that isn’t Harry saying ‘fuck you’ to me, then I don’t know what is.

The rest of the concert goes relatively smooth. When Dark Galaxy sings their final song and get off stage, the lights go off as crew members rush to clear the stage of musical instruments and Jeff announces to the crowd that there’ll be a ten minute intermission as the judges decide who wins the competition. The stadium lights dim up while the stage lights go down. Once the ten minutes are up, the stage lights up again, and the five bands get called back on one by one and face the judge’s table.

To say that I’m nervous wouldn’t even cover half of what I’m feeling right now. My heart’s threatening to beat out of my chest, and my hands have gotten quite clammy. 

“Did everyone have a good time this evening?” Jeff asks into his microphone, addressing the crowd. Immediately, they all scream in affirmation.

“Great!” He then shifts his attention to us.

“This has been a really tough decision,” he tells us. “Each of you has shown growth throughout this competition, and I can see every single one of you guys succeeding in the music industry.” A bit of a canned response, but okay.

“Unfortunately, only one band can be the winner of Rock Royale,” Jeff continues. “We’ve considered your entire journey as well as your performance this evening when making our decision. It was a pretty close call, but I think we made the right one.” He clears his throat dramatically.

“And the winner is…”


	31. Tara

One Year Later

If you went to me when I was a junior in high school and told me that I would become famous by entering a TV competition with my three bandmates, winning it, and opening for my celebrity crush on his tour, I would have laughed in your face and told you that the idea sounds like something straight out of a fictional story; that was never going to happen to me.

But, here I am, at age 20, doing exactly that. When Jeff announced that Pink World won Rock Royale, I nearly fainted from shock. I was in a daze during the afterparty, and when I woke up the next morning, it finally hit me that this wasn’t a dream: I, along with Puck, Ralph, and Thomas, had actually won. Later that day, we signed a record deal with Jeff, and from there we started thinking about releasing our first album.

One Direction ended up splitting up for good after the show ended. Their personalities were too different for them to really get any traction as a band, so they decided to keep the past in the past and continue developing themselves as solo artists. Although, I personally think Harry’s doing far better than the other three men combined. Some say I may be biased, and I suppose they’re right to a certain extent, but if you consider the fact that one’s essentially mooching off other celebrities to stay relevant, another has resorted to performing at county fairs and other small venues to get by, and the third hasn’t even cracked the Billboard 200 with his long-awaited and delayed album, I think you can see where I’m coming from.

When it came time for Pink World to tour our debut album “Fairy Tale”, it just so happened that Harry was also scheduled to tour his sophomore album “Garden of Broken Dreams”; consequently, Jeff thought it would make perfect sense for us to open for Harry in the U.S. The experience has been absolutely surreal. I’ve only ever been on the other side of the stage up to this point, and so to not only perform for people all over the country but to have them like Pink World is mind-blowing, to say the least.

Ralph and Thomas are still going strong, and Thomas has been talking to Puck and me about plans to potentially propose to him once we’re done touring, since he knows how embarrassed Ralph would get if he proposed on stage. I’m really happy for them; they look so content with each other.

I wish I could say that my love life was that simple and lovely.

More and more people have picked up on the fact that there’s something going on between Harry, Puck, and me as the tour’s progressed, and it’s imperative that I make a decision regarding this situation soon before things in the media start getting really messy. While the thought of a polyamorous relationship or even a threesome has crossed my mind and dreams multiple times, I know it’s entirely unrealistic. For one, I feel like either one of those scenarios would create more problems and not really solve anything; plus, I know for a fact that Puck wouldn’t be open to any of it.

So, who to choose?

On the one hand, Puck’s been a physical part of my life longer than Harry has. He knows things about me that I wouldn’t trust anyone else with, not even Harry. Even though his jealousy sometimes gets the best of him, I know Puck cares about me very deeply and tries his best to keep my best interests in heart. Then, there’s Harry. We would be a hot couple, no doubt about that. He’s proven to be as charismatic, goofy, and loving in real life as I imagined him to be, and our chemistry is magnetic. I know that most people in my position would choose Harry over Puck in a heartbeat.

And yet, as I watch Puck perform on stage while we’re in Hudson, Florida, I suddenly realize that it has to be him. I don’t know what switches on in my brain that makes me reach this conclusion, but once I’ve made it, I can’t shake it off. Puck’s my ride or die best friend at this point; I’d be an idiot if I gave him up to chase the fantasy that Harry Styles represents, because there’s no guaranteeing that anything between Harry and me is going to last for very long past the initial honeymoon stage.

When we arrive at the hotel we’re staying at after the concert, I make my way over to Puck’s room and gently knock on the door.

“Is everything okay, Tar---” he starts to ask when he answers the door. I cut him off by wrapping my arms around him and planting a nice, warm kiss on his lips. When I pull back, he appears to be quite surprised by what I just did. Pleasantly surprised, mind you, but still surprised.

“I love you,” I whisper.


End file.
